
/ /I? f 



Kight welcoriie shall he be 
To read, to study, not to lend, 

But to return to nie : 
Not that imparted knowledge doth 

Diminish learning's store. 
But BOOKS, I often find, if lent 

Heturn to me no more. ' 

Read slowly, pause frequently, 
^^ 'ihink seriously. 

Keep cleanly, return duly. 
With the corners of the leaves not 
turned down. 



die Cijrifittan §ear: 

THOUGHTS IN VERSE FOR THE SUNDAYS 

AND HOLYDAYS THROUGHOUT 

THE YEAR. 



BY THE 



REV. JOHN KEBLE. 



In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength." 

Isaiah xxx. 15. 




BOSTON: 
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY, 

135 Washington Street. 
1867. 







RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BT 

H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 






l/irv- 






ADVERTISEMENT. 



Next to a sound rule of faith, there is nothing 
of so much consequence as a sober standard of 
feeling in matters of practical religion ; and it is 
the peculiar happiness of the Church of Eng- 
land to possess, in her authorized formularies, 
an ample and secure provision for both. But 
in times of much leisure and unbounded curios- 
ity, when excitement of every kind is sought 
after with a morbid eagerness, this part of the 
merit of our Liturgy is likely in some measure 
to be lost on many even of its sincere admirers ; 
the very tempers which most require such dis- 
cipline setting themselves, in general, most de- 
cidedly against it. 

The object of the present publication will be 
attained, if any person find assistance from it in 
bringing his own thoughts and feelings into more 
entire unison with those recommended ard ex- 
emplified in the Prayer-Book. The work does 



IV ADVERTISEMENT. 

not furnish a complete series of compositions ; 
being, in many parts, rather adapted with more 
or less propriety to the successive portions of 
the Liturgy, than originally suggested by them. 
Something has been added at the end concern- 
ing the several Occasional Services ; which con- 
stitute, from their personal and domestic nature, 
the most perfect instance of that soothing ten- 
dency in the Prayer-Book, which it is the chief 
purpose of these pages to exhibit. 

i/ay30, 1827. 



CONTENTS. 



Morning l 

Evening 4 

Advent Sunday 7 

Second Sunday in Advent. The Signs of the Times. ... 11 

Third Sunday in Advent. The Travellers 14 

Fourth Sunday in Advent. Dimness 17 

Christmas Day 20 

St. Stephen's Day 24 

St. John's Day 27 

The Holy Innocents 29 

First Sunday after Christmas. The Sun-dial of Ahaz. . . 32 

The Circumcision 35 

Second Sunday after Christmas. The Pilgrim's Song, . 38 

The Epiphany 41 

First Sunday after Epiphany. The Nightingale 44 

Second Sunday after Epiphany. The Secret of Per- 
petual Youth 47 

Third Sunday after Epiphany. The Good CentuHon. ... 51 
Fourth Sunday after Epiphany. The World is for Ex- 
citement, the Gospel for Soothing 55 

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany. Cure sin, and you cure 

Sorrow 58 

Sixth Sunday after Epiphany. TTie Benefits of Uhcer" 

tainty , , 62 

Beptuagesima Sunday 66 

Sexagesima Sunday. Q9 



vi CONTENTS. 



Quinqaagesima Sunday 73 

Ash-Wednesday 76 

First Sunday in Lent. The City of Refuge 79 

Second Sunday in Lent. Esau's Forfeit 82 

Third Sunday in Lent. The Spoils of Satan 86 

Fourth Sunday in Lent. The Rosebud 89 

Fifth Sunday in Lent. The Burning Bush 92 

Sunday next before Easter. The Children in the Temple 96 
Monday before Easter. Christ waiting for the Cross. ... 98 
Tuesday before Easter. Christ refusing the Wine and 

Myrrh 101 

"Wednesday before Easter. Christ in the Garden 104 

Thursday before Easter. The Vision of the Latter Days. 108 

Good-Friday Ill 

Easter Eve 114 

Easter Day 118 

Monday in Easter Week. St. Peter and Cornelius 121 

Tuesday in Easter Week. The Snow-drop 124 

First Sunday after Easter. TTie Restless Pastor reproved 127 

Second Sunday after Easter. Balaam 130 

Third Sunday after Easter. Languor and Travail 133 

Fourth Sunday after Easter. The Dove on the Cross. . . . 136 

Fifth Sunday after Easter. The Priest's Intercessor 140 

Ascension Day 144 

Sunday after Ascension Day. Seed-time 147 

Whitsunday 151 

Monday in Whitsun-week. The City of Confusion 154 

Tuesday in Whitsun-week. Holy Orders 158 

Trinity Sunday 162 

First Sunday after Trinity. Israel among the Ruins of 

Canaan 165 

Second Sunday after Trinity. Charity the Life of Faith 167 
Third Sunday after Trinity. Comfort for Sinners in the 
presence of the Good 171 



CONTENTS. VII 



Fourth Sunday after Trinity. The Groans of Nature. . . 174 
Fifth. Sunday after Trinity. The Fishermen of Bethsaida 179 

Sixtli Sunday after Trinity. The Psalmist repenting 182 

Seventli Sunday after Trinity. The Feast in the Wilder- 
ness 185 

Eighth Sunday after Trinity. The Disobedient Prophet. . 188 

Ninth Sunday after Trinity. Elijah in Horeb 191 

Tenth Sunday after Trinity. Christ weeping over Jertir- 

salem 194 

Eleventh Sunday after Trinity. Gehazi reproved 196 

Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. The Deaf and Dumb 199 

Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Moses on the Mount. . 202 

Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Ten Lepers 207 

Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Flowers of the 

Field 209 

Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity. Hope is letter than Ease 212 
Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. EzehieVs Vision in 

the Temple 214 

Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. The Church in the 

Wilderness 218 

Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity. Shadrach, Meshach, 

and Abednego 222 

Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, Mountain Scenery 225 

Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity. The Redbreast in 

September 228 

Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity. The Rule of Chris- 
tian Forgiveness 231 

Tweniy-third Sunday after Trinity. Forest Leaves in 

Autumn 234 

Twenty-fourth S unday after Trinity. Imperfection of Hu- 
man Sympathy 237 

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity. The Two Rainbows . . 241 
Sunday next before Advent. Self-examination before 
Advent 244 



Viii CONTENTS. 

Page 

St. Andrew's Day 248 

St. Thomas the Apostle 250 

Conversion of St. Paul 254 

Purification of St. Mary the Virgin 258 

St. Matthias' Day 261 

Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary 264 

St. Mark's Day 267 

St. Philip and St. James's Day 269 

St. Barnabas the Apostle 272 

St. John Baptist's Day 276 

St. Peter's Day 279 

St. James the Apostle 283 

St. Bartholomew the Apostle 286 

St. Matthew the Apostle. . . , 290 

St. Michael and All Angels 294 

St. Luke the Evangelist 298 

St. Simon and St. Jude, Apostles 302 

All Saints' Day 305 

Holy Communion 308 

Holy Baptism 312 

Catechism 315 

Confirmation 317 

Matrimony 319 

Visitation and Commimion of the Sick 322 

Burial of the Dead 325 

Churching of Women 328 

Commination 330 

Forms of Prayer to be used at Sea 333 

Gunpowder Treason 335 

King Charles the Martyr 338 

The Restoration of the Eoyal Family 34i 

The Accession 344 

Ordination 346 

Index 349 




His compassions fail not. 



They are new every morning. 

Lament, iii. 22, 23. 




TIES of the rich unfoldmg morn, 
That, ere the glorious sun be born, 
By some soft touch invisible 
Around his path are taught to swell ; — 

Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, 
That dancest forth at opening day, 
And brushing by with joyous wing, 
Wakenest each little leaf to sing ; — 

Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, 
By which deep grove and tangled stream 
Pay, for soft rains in season given, 
Their tribute to the genial heaven ; — 

Why waste your treasures of delight 
Upon our thankless, joyless sight ; 
Who day by day to sin awake. 
Seldom of heaven and you partake ? 
1 



MORNING. 



Oh ! timely happy, timely wise, 
Hearts that with rising morn arise ! 
Eyes that the beam celestial view, 
Which evermore makes all thinofs new ! ^ 



New every morning is the love 
Our wakening and uprising prove ; 
Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
Eestor'd to life, and power, and thought. 

New mercies, each returning day, 

Hover around us while we pray ; 

New perils past, new sins forgiven. 

New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven. 

If on our daily course our mind 
Be set to hallow all we find. 
New treasures still, of countless price, 
God will provide for sacrifice. 

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, 
As more of Heaven in each we see : 
Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
Shall dawn on every cross and care. 

As for some dear familiar strain 
Untir'd we ask, and ask again, 
Ever, in its melodious store. 
Finding a spell unheard before ; 
1 Kevelations xxi. 5. 



MORNING. 3 

Such is the bliss of souls serene, 

When they have sworn, and steadfast mean, 

Counting the cost, in all t' espy 

Their God, in all themselves deny. 

O could we learn that sacrifice. 
What lights would all around us rise ! 
How would our hearts with wisdom talk 
Along Life's dullest, dreariest walk ! 

We need not bid, for cloister'd cell. 
Our neighbor and our work farewell, 
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
For sinful man beneath the sky : 

The trivial round, the common task, 
Would furnish all we ought to ask ; 
Room to deny ourselves ; a road 
To bring us, daily, nearer God. 

Seek we no more ; content with these. 
Let present Rapture, Comfort, Ease, 
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go : — 
The secret this of Rest below. 

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love 
Fit us for perfect Rest above ; 
And help us, this and every day, 
To live more nearly as we pray. 




Abide with us : for it is toward evening, and the day is far 
spent. — St. Luke xxiv. 29. 

fIS gone, that bright and orbed blaze, 
Fast fading from our wistful gaze ; 
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sighl 
The last faint pulse of quivering light. 

In darkness and in weariness 
The traveller on his way must press, 
No gleam to watch on tree or tower, 
Whiling away the lonesome hour. 

Sun of my soul ! Thou Saviour dear, 
It is not night if Thou be near : 
Oh ! may no ^arth-born cloud arise 
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes. 

When round Thy wondrous works below 
My searching rapturous glance I throw, 
Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love, 
In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; 

Or by the light Thy words disclose 
Watch Time's full river as it flows. 
Scanning Thy gracious Providence, 
Where not too deep for mortal sense : — 



EVENING. 

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, 
And all the flowers of life unfold ; 
Let not my heart within me burn, 
Except in all I Thee discern. 

When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
Forever on my Saviour's breast. 

Abide with me from morn till eve, 
For without Thee I cannot live : 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without Thee I dare not die. 

Thou Framer of the light and dark. 
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark : 
Amid the howling wintry sea 
We are in port if we have Thee.^ 

The Rulers of this Christian land, 
'Twixt Thee and us ordain'd to stand, — 
Guide Thou their course, Lord, aright. 
Let all do all as in Thy sight. 

Oh ! by Thine own sad burden, borne 
So meekly up the hill of scorn, 

1 Then they willingly received Him into the ship : and im- 
mediately the ship was at the land whither they went. — St. 
John vi. 31. 



EVENING. 

Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cross 
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! 

If some poor wandering child of Thine 
Have spurn' d, to-day, the voice divine, 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick : enrich the poor 
With blessings from Thy boimdless store : 
Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
Like infant's slmnbers, pure and light. 

Come near and bless us when we wake, 
Ere through the world our way we take ; 
Till in the ocean of Thy love 
We lose ourselves in Heaven above. 



Ifow it is high time to moake out of sleep : for now is our sal- 
vaiion nearer than when we believed. — Komans xiii. 11. 

^^m^WAKE — again the Gospel trump is 
^S^ blown — 

<^ra3i From year to year it swells with louder 
tone, 
From year to year the signs of wrath 
Are gathering round the Judge's path, 
Strange words fulfill'd, and mighty works 

achiev'd. 
And truth in all the world both hated and be- 
liev'd. 

Awake ! why linger in the gorgeous town. 
Sworn liegemen of the Cross and thorny crown ? 
Up from your beds of sloth for shame. 
Speed to the eastern mount like flame, 
Nor wonder, should ye find your King in tears. 
E'en with the loud Hosanna ringing in His ears. 

Alas ! no need to rouse them : long ago 
They are gone forth to swell Messiah's show : 
With glittering robes and garlands sweet 
They strew the ground beneath His feet : 
All but your hearts are there — doom'd to 

prove 
The arrows wing'd in Heaven for Faith that will 
not love ! 



8 ADVENT SUNDAY. 

Meanwhile He paces through th' adoring crowd, 
Calm as the march of some majestic cloud, 
That o'er wild scenes of ocean-war 
Holds its still course in Heaven afar : 
E'en so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on, 
Thou keepest silent watch from Thy triumphal 
throne : 

E'en so, the world is thronging round to gaze 
On the dread vision of the latter days, 
Constrain'd to own Thee, but in heart 
Prepar'd to take Barabbas' part : 
" Hosanna " now, to-morrow " Crucify," 
The changeful burden still of their rude lawless 
cry. 

Yet in that throng of selfish hearts untrue 
Thy sad eye rests upon Thy faithful few, 
Children and childlike souls are there, 
Blind Bartimeus' humble prayer, 
And Lazarus waken'd from his four days' sleep, 
Enduring life again, that Passover to keep. 

And fast beside the olive-border'd way 
Stands the bless'd home, where Jesus deign'd to 
stay. 
The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere 
And heavenly Contemplation dear. 
Where Martha lov'd to wait with reverence meet, 
And wiser Mary linger'd at Thy sacred feet. 



ADVENT SUNDAY. 9 

Still through decaying ages as they glide, 
Thou lov'st Thy chosen remnant to divide ; 
Sprinkled along the waste of years 
Full many a soft green isle appears : 
Pause where we may upon the desert road, 
Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode. 

When withering blasts of error swept the sky,^ 
And Love's last flower seem'd fain to droop and 
die. 
How sweet, how lone the ray benign 
On shelter'd nooks of Palestine ! 
Then to his early home did Love repair,^ 
And cheer'd his sickening heart with his own 
native air. 

Years roll away : again the tide of crime 

Has swept Thy footsteps from the favor'd clime. 

Where shall the holy Cross find rest ? 

On a crown'd monarch's ^ mailed breast : 
Like some bright angel o'er the darkling scene. 
Through court and camp he holds his heaven- 
ward course serene. 

A fouler vision yet ; an age of light, 

Light without love, glares on the aching sight : 

1 Arianism in the fourth century. 

2 See 8L Jerome's WorTcs, i. 123, edit. Erasm. 

3 St. Louis in the thirteenth century. 



10 ADVENT SUNDAY. 

O who can tell how calm and sweet, 
Meek Walton ! shows thy green retreat, 
When wearied with the tale thy times disclose, 
The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose ? 

Thus bad and good their several warnings give 
Of His approach, whom none may see and live : 
Faith's ear, with awful still delight. 
Counts them like minute-bells at night. 
Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn, 
While to her funeral pile this aged world is 
borne. 

But what are Heaven's alarms Jto hearts that 

cower 
In wilful slumber, deepening every hour, 
That draw their curtains closer round, 
The nearer swells the trumpet's sound ? 
Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and 

die, 
Touch us with chastening hand, and make us 
feel Thee nigh. 




,^ec0it& ^untsap in SItibent* 

And when these things begin to come to pass, then looh up, and 
lift up your heads ; for your redemption draweth nigh. 

St. Luke xxi. 28. 

jOT till the freezing blast is still, 
Till freely leaps the sparkling rill, 
And gales sweep soft from summer skies, 

As o'er a sleeping infant's eyes 

A mother's kiss ; ere calls like these. 

No sunny gleam awakes the trees. 

Nor dare the tender flowerets show 

Their bosoms to th' uncertain glow. 

Why then, in sad and wintry time. 
Her heavens all dark with doubt and crime, 
Why lifts the Church her drooping head. 
As though her evil hour were fled ? 
Is she less wise than leaves of spring. 
Or birds that cower with folded wing ? 
What sees she in this lowering sky 
To tempt her meditative eye ? 

She has a charm, a word of fire, 
A pledge of love that cannot tire ; 
By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars, 
By rushing waves and falling stars, 



12 SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

By every sign her Lord foretold, 
She sees the world is waxing old,* 
And through that last and direst storm 
Descries by faith her Saviour's form. 

Not surer does each tender gem, 
Set in the fig-tree's polish'd stem, 
Foreshow the summer season bland, 
Than these dread signs Thy mighty hand : 
But oh ! frail hearts, and spirits dark ! 
The season's flight unwarn'd we mark, 
But miss the Judge behind the door,^ 
For all the light of sacred lore : 

Yet is He there : beneath our eaves 
Each sound His wakeful ear receives : 
Hush, idle words, and thoughts of ill, 
Your Lord is listening : peace, be still.^ 
Christ watches by a Christian's hearth, 
Be silent, " vain deluding mirth," 
Till in thine alter'd voice be known 
Somewhat of Resignation's tone. 

But chiefly ye should lift your gaze 
Above the world's uncertain haze, 

1 The world hath lost his youth, and the times begin to wax 
old. — 2 Esdras xiv. 10. 

2 See St. James v. 9. 

3 Ita fabulantur, ut qui sciant Dominum audire. — TeriulL 
Apohg., p. 36, edit. Eigalt. 



SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 13 

And look with calm unwavering eye 
On the bright fields beyond the sky, 
Ye, who your Lord's commission bear, 
His way of mercy to prepare : 
Angels He calls ye : be your strife 
To lead on earth an Angel's life. 

Think not of rest ; though dreams be sweet, 
Start up, and ply your heavenward feet. 
Is not God's oath upon your head, 
Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed, 
Never again your loins untie, 
Nor let your torches waste and die, 
Till, when the shadows thickest fall. 
Ye hear your Master's midnight call ? 




€f)irti ^untiap in %Wmu 

What went ye out into the wilderness to see ? a reed shaken mth 
the wind f . . But what went ye out for to see f a prophet f 
yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet. 

St. Matthew xi. 7, 9. 

HAT went ye out to see 
^ O'er the rude sandy lea, 

Where stately Jordan flows by many a 
palm, 
Or where Gennesaret's wave 
Delights the flowers to lave, 
That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm ? 

All through the summer night, 

Those blossoms red and bright ^ 
Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the 
breeze. 

Like hermits watching still 

Around the sacred hill. 
Where erst our Saviour watch'd upon His knees. 

The Paschal moon above 

Seems like a saint to rove, 
Left shining in the world with Christ alone ; 

Below, the lake's still face 

Sleeps sweetly in th' embrace 
Of mountains terrac'd high with mossy stone. 

1 Oleanders : with which the western bank of the lake is 
said to be clothed down to the water's edge. 



THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 15 

Here may we sit, and dream 

Over the heavenly theme, 
Till to our soul the former days return ; 

Till on the grassy bed, 

Where thousands once He fed, 
The world's incarnate Maker we discern. 

O cross no more the main. 

Wandering so wild and vain, 
To count the reeds that tremble in the wind. 

On listless dalliance bound. 

Like children gazing round, 
Who on God's works no seal of Godhead 
find : 

Bask not in courtly bower. 

Or sun-bright hall of power, 
Pass Babel quick, and seek the holy land — 

From robes of Tyrian dye 

Turn with undazzled eye 
To Bethlehem's glade, or Carmel's haunted 
strand. 

Or choose thee out a cell 

In Kedron's storied dell, 
Beside the springs of Love, that never die ; 

Among the olives kneel 

The chill night-blast to feel. 
And watch the moon that saw thy Master's 
agony. 



16 THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

Then rise at dawn of day, 

And wind thy thoughtful way, 
Where rested once the Temple's stately shade. 

With due feet tracing round 

The city's northern bound, 
To th' other holy garden, where the Lord was 
laid. 

Who thus alternate see 

His death and victory, 
Kising and falling as on angel wings. 

They, while they seem to roam. 

Draw daily nearer home, 
Their heart untravell'd still adores the King of 
kings. 

Or, if at home they stay, 

Yet are they, day by day, 
In spirit journeying through the glorious land, 

Not for light Fancy's reed. 

Nor Honor's purple meed. 
Nor gifted Prophet's lore, nor Science' wondrous 
wand. 

But more than Prophet, more 

Than Angels can adore 
With face unveil'd, is He they go to seek : 

Blessed be God, Whose grace 

Shows Him in every place 
To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and meek. 




TTie eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them 
that hear shall hearken. — Isaiah xxxii. 3. 

F the bright things in earth and air 
'(2 How little can the heart embrace ! 
Soft shades and gleaming lights are 
there — 
I know it well, but cannot trace. 

Mine eye unworthy seems to read 

One page of Nature's beauteous book ; 

It lies before me, fair outspread — 
I only cast a wishful look. 

I cannot paint to Memory's eye 

The scene, the glance, I dearest love — 

Unchang'd themselves, in me they die, 
Or faint, or false, their shadows prove. 

In vain, with dull and tuneless ear, 

I linger by soft Music's cell. 
And in my heart of hearts would hear 

What to her own she deigns to tell. 

'T is misty all, both sight and sound — 
I only know 't is fair and sweet — 

'T is wandering on enchanted ground 
With dizzy brow and tottering feet. 
2 



18 FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT, 

But patience ! there may come a time 
When these dull ears shall scan aright 

Strains, that outring Earth's drowsy chime, 
As Heaven outshines the taper's light. 

These eyes, that dazzled now and weak, 
At glancing motes in sunshine wink, 

Shall see the King's ^ full glory break, 
Nor from the blissful vision shrink : 

In fearless love and hope uncloy'd 

Forever on that ocean bright 
Empower'd to gaze ; and undestroy'd. 

Deeper and deeper plunge in light. 

Though scarcely now their laggard glance 
Reach to an arrow's flight, that day 

They shall behold, and not in trance, 
The region " very far away." 

If Memory sometimes at our spell 
Refuse to speak, or speak amiss. 

We shall not need her where we dwell 
Ever in sight of all our bliss. 

Meanwhile, if over sea or sky 

Some tender lights unnotic'd fleet, 

Or on lov'd features dawn and die. 
Unread, to us, their lesson sweet ; 

1 Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty ; they shall 
behold the land that is very far off. — Isaiah xxxiii. 17. 



FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT, 19 

Yet are there saddening sights around, 
Which Heaven, in mercy, spares us too, 

And we see far in holy ground, 
If duly purg'd our mental view. 

The distant landscape draws not nigh 
For all our gazing ; but the soul, 

That upward looks, may still descry 
Nearer, each day, the brightening goal. 

And thou, too curious ear, that fain 
Wouldst thread the maze of Harmony, 

Content thee with one simple strain, 
The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee ; 

Till thou art duly train'd, and taught 
The concord sweet of Love divine : 

Then, with that inward Music fraught. 
Forever rise, and sing, and shine. 




And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heav^ 
enty host praising God. — St. Luke ii. 13. 

HAT sudden blaze of song 

Spreads o'er th' expanse of Heaven ? 
In waves of light it thrills along, 
Th' angelic signal given — 
" Glory to God ! " from yonder central fire 
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry 
choir ; 




Like circles widening round 

Upon a clear blue river, 

Orb after orb, the wondrous sound 

Is echoed on forever : 

" Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, 

And love towards men of love ^ — salvation 

and release." 

1 I have ventured to adopt the reading of the Vulgate, as 
being generally known through Pergolesi's beautiful compo- 
sition, " Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bona 
voluntatis.^'' 



CHRISTMAS DAY, 21 

Yet stay, before thou dare 
To join that festal throng ; 
Listen and mark what gentle air 
First stirr'd the tide of song ; 
'T is not, " the Saviour born in David's home, 
To Whom for power and health obedient worlds 
should come : " — 

'T is not, " the Christ the Lord : " — 
With fix'd adoring look 
The choir of Angels caught the word, 
Nor yet their silence broke : 
But when they heard the sign, where Christ 
should be, 
In sudden light they shone and heavenly har- 
mony. 

Wrapp'd in His swaddling bands, ; 

And in His manger laid. 
The Hope and Glory of all lands 
Is come to the world's aid : 
No peaceful home upon His cradle smil'd, 
Guests rudely went and came, where slept the 
royal Child. 

But where Thou dwellest, Lord, 
No other thought should be. 
Once duly welcom'd and ador'd, 
How should I part with Thee ? 



22 CHRISTMAS D-AT. 

Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou 
wilt grace 
The single heart to be Thy sure abiding-place. 

Thee, on the bosom laid 
Of a pure Virgin mind, 
In quiet ever, and in shade. 

Shepherd and sage may find ; 
They, who have bow'd untaught to Nature's 
sway. 
And they, who follow Truth along her star-pav'd 
way. 

The pastoral spirits first 

Approach Thee, Babe divine, 
For they in lowly thoughts are nurs'd. 
Meet for Thy lowly shrine : 
Sooner than they should miss where Thou 
dost dwell. 
Angels from Heaven will stoop to guide them to 
Thy cell. 

Still, as the day comes round 
For Thee to be reveal'd, 
By wakeful shepherds Thou art found, 
Abiding in the field. 
All through the wintry heaven and chill night 
air, 
In music and in light Thou dawnest on their 
prayer. 



CHRISTMAS DAY. 23 

O faint not ye for fear — 

What though your wandering sheep, 
Reckless of what they see and hear, 
Lie lost in wilful sleep ? 
High Heaven in mercy to your sad annoy 
Still greets you with glad tidings of inunortal 

joy. 

Think on th' eternal home, 
The Saviour left for you ; 
Think on the Lord most holy, come 
To dwell with hearts untrue : 
So shall ye tread untir'd His pastoral ways, 
And in the darkness sing your carol of high 
praise. 



He, being full of the Holy Ghost, looTced up steadfastly into 
heaven, and sa20 the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the 
right hand of God. — Acts \'ii. 55. 

^^?^A-i>^ S rays around the source of light 
^l^^h Stream upward ere he glow in sight, 
^^^j© And watching by his future flight 

Set the clear heavens on fire ; 
So on the King of Martyrs wait 
Three chosen bands, in royal state,^ 
And all earth owns, of good and great, 

Is gather'd in that choir. 

One presses on, and welcomes death : 
One calmly yields his willing breath, 
Nor slow, nor hurrying, but in faith 

Content to die or live : 
And some, the darlings of their Lord, 
Play smiling with the flame and sword. 
And, ere they speak, to His sure word 

Unconscious witness give. 

1 "Wheatly on the Common Prayer, c. v. sect. iv. 2. " As 
there are three kinds of martyrdom, the first both in Avill and 
deed, -which is the highest ; the second in will but not in deed ; 
the third in deed but not in will; so the Church commemo- 
rates these martyrs in the same order: St. Stephen first, who 
suffered death both in will and deed ; St. John the Evangelist 
next, who suffered martyrdom in will but not in deed ; the 
holy Innocents last, who suffered in deed but not in will." 



ST. STEPHEN'S DAY. 25 

Foremost and nearest to His throne, 
By perfect robes of triumph known, 
And likest Him in look and tone, 

The holy Stephen kneels, 
With steadfast gaze, as when the sky 
Flew open to his fainting eye, 
Which, like a fading lamp, flash'd high, 

Seeing what death conceals. 

Well might you guess what vision bright 
Was present to his raptur'd sight. 
E'en as reflected streams of light 

Their solar source betray — 
The glory which our God surrounds, 
The Son of Man, th' atoning wounds — 
He sees them all ; and earth's dull bounds 

Are melting fast away. 

He sees them all — no other view 
Could stamp the Saviour's likeness true. 
Or with His love so deep embrue 

Man's sullen heart and gross — 
" Jesu, do Thou my soul receive : 
Jesu, do Thou my foes forgive : " 
He who would learn that prayer, must live 

Under the holy Cross. 

He, though he seem on earth to move, 
Must glide in air like gentle dove, 



26 ST. STEPHEN'S DAT. 

From yon unclouded depths above 
Must draw his purer breath ; 
Till men behold his angel face 
All radiant with celestial grace,^ 
Martyr all o'er, and meet to trace 
The lines of Jesus' death. 

I And all that sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him, 
saw his face as it had been the face of an angel. — Acts vi. 15. 



^u S!#tt'^ ^v* 




Peter seeing him, saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man 
do f Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come^ 
what is thai to thee ? follow thou Me. — St. John xxi. 21, 22. 

ORD, and what shall this man do ? " 
Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend ? 
If his love for Christ be true, 
Christ hath told thee of his end : 
This is he whom God approves, 
This is he whom Jesus loves. 

Ask not of him more than this. 

Leave it in his Saviour's breast, 
Whether, early call'd to bliss. 

He in youth shall find his rest, 
Or armed in his station wait 
Till his Lord be at the gate : 

Whether in his lonely course 

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay. 
Or with Love's supporting force 

Cheat the toil and cheer the way : 
Leave it all in His high hand, 
Who doth hearts as streams command.^ 

1 The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord, as the rivera 
.•f water: He tumeth it whithersoever He will. — Proverbs 
yad. 1. 



28 ST. JOHN'S BAT. 

Gales from Heaven, if so He will, 
Sweeter melodies can wake 

On tlie lonely mountain rill 

Than the meeting waters make. 

Who hath the Father and the Son, 

May be left, but not alone. 



Sick or healthful, slave or free. 
Wealthy, or despis'd and poor — 

What is that to him or thee, 
So his love to Christ endure ? 

When the shore is won at last, 

Who will count the billows past ? 

Only, since our souls will shrink 
At the touch of natural grief, 

When our earthly lov'd ones sink. 
Lend us. Lord, Thy sure relief; 

Patient hearts, their pain to see, 

And Thy grace, to follow Thee. 




These were redeemed from among men, being the first-fruita 
unto God and to the Lamb. — Rev. xiv. 4. 

'AY, ye celestial guards, who wait 

In Bethlehem, round the Saviour's 
palace gate, 
Say, who are these on golden wings, 
That hover o'er the new-born King of kings, 

Their palms and garlands telling plain, 
That they are of the glorious martyr train, 

Next to yourselves ordain'd to praise 
His Name, and brighten as on Him they gaze? 

But where their spoils and trophies? where 
The dorious dint a martyr's shield should bear ? 

How chance no cheek among them wears 
The deep-worn trace of penitential tears, 

But all is bright and smiling love. 
As if, fresh-borne from Eden's happy grove, 

They had flown here, their King to see, 
Nor ever had been heirs of dark mortality ? 

Ask, and some angel will reply, 
« These, like yourselves, were born to sin and die, 

But ere the poison root was grown, 
God set His seal, and mark'd them for His own. 

Baptiz'd in blood for Jesus' sake, 
Now underneath the Cross their bed they make, 



30 TEE HOLY INNOCENTS, 

Not to be scar'd from that sure rest 
By frighten'd mother's shriek, or warrior's wav- 
ing crest." 

Mindful of these, the fii^t-fruits sweet 
Borne by the suffering Church her Lord to 
greet ; 

Bless'd Jesus ever lov'd to trace 
The " innocent brio^htness " of an infant's face. 

He rais'd them in His holy arms, 
He bless'd them from the world and all its harms : 

Heirs though they were of sin and shame, 
He bless'd them in His own and in His Father's 
Name. 

Then, as each fond unconscious child 
On th' everlasting Parent sweetly smil'd, 

(Like infants sporting on the shore, 
That tremble not at Ocean's boundless roar,) 

Were they not present to Thy thought. 
All souls, that in their cradles Thou hast bought ? 

But chiefly these, who died for Thee, 
That Thou might'st live for them a sadder death 
to see. 

And next to these. Thy gracious word 
"Was as a pledge of benediction, stor'd 

For Christian mothers, while they moan 
Their treasur'd hopes, just bom, baptiz'd, and 
gone. 

Oh, joy for Rachel's broken heart ! 



THE HOLY INNOCENTS. 31 

She and her babes shall meet no more to part ; 

So dear to Christ her pious haste 
To trust them in His arms, forever safe embraced. 

Slie dares not grudge to leave them there, 
Where to behold them was her heart's first 
prayer ; 

She dares not grieve — but she must weep, 
As her pale placid martyr sinks to sleep, 

Teaching so well and silently 
How, at the shepherd's call, the lamb should die : 

How happier far than life the end 
Of souls that infant-like beneath their burden 
bend. 




fit^t ^imfcap after €f|ti^tma^* 

So the sun returned ten degrees, by lohich degrees it was gone 
down. — Isaiah xxxviii. 8; compare Josh. x. 13. 

Sis true, of old th' unchanging sun 
His daily course refus'd to run, 
The pale moon hurrying to the west 
Paus'd at a mortal's call, to aid 
Th' avenging storm of war, that laid 
Seven guilty realms at once on earth's defiled 
breast. 

But can it be, one suppliant tear 
Sould stay the ever-moving sphere ? 
A sick man's lowly-breathed sigh. 
When from the world he turns ^way,^ 
And hides his weary eyes to pray, 
Should change your mystic dance, ye wanderers 
of the sky ? 

"We too, O Lord, would fain command, 
As then. Thy wonder-working hand. 

And backward force the waves of Time, 
That now so swift and silent bear 
Our restless bark from year to year ; 
Help us to pause and mourn to Thee our tale of 
crime. 

1 Then Hezekiah turned Ms face toward the wall, and 
prayed unto the Lord. — Isaiah xxxviii. 2. 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 83 

Bright hopes, that erst the bosom warm'd, 
And vows, too pure to be perform'd 

And prayers blown wide by gales of care; 
These, and such faint half-waking dreams, 
Like stormy lights on mountain streams. 
Wavering and broken all, athwart the conscience 
glare. 

How shall we 'scape th' o'erwhelming Fast ? 
Can spirits broken, joys o'ercast. 

And eyes that never more may smile ; — 
Can these th' avenging bolt delay, 
Or win us back one little day 
The bitterness of death to soften and beguile ? 

Father and Lover of our souls ! 
Though darkly round Thine anger rolls. 

Thy sunshine smiles beneath the gloom, 
Thou seek'st to warn us, not confound. 
Thy showers would pierce the harden'd 
ground. 
And win it to give out its brightness and perfumo. 

Thou smil'st on us in wrath, and we. 
E'en in remorse, would smile on Thee ; 

The tears that bathe our offer'd hearts, 
We would not have them stain'd and dim, 
But dropp'd from wings of seraphim, 
All glowing with the light accepted Love im- 
parts. 
3 



34 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 

Time's waters will not ebb, nor stay, 
Power cannot change them, but Love may ; 

What cannot be, Love counts it done. 
Deep in the heart, her searching view 
Can read where Faith is fix'd and true, 
Through shades of setting life can see Heaven's 
work begun. 

O Thou, who keep'st the Key of Love, 
Open Thy fount, eternal Dove, 

And overflow this heart of mine, 
Enlarging as it fills with Thee, 
Till in one blaze of charity 
Care and remorse are lost, like motes in light 
divine ; 

Till, as each moment wafts us higher, 
By every gush of pure desire. 

And high-breath'd hope of joys above, 
By every secret sigh we heave, 
Whole years of folly we oiJtlive, 
In His unerring sight, who measures Life by 
Love. 




In whom also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made 
without hands. — CoLoss. ii. 11. 

HE year begins with Thee, 

And Thou beginn'st with woe, 
To let the world of sinners see 
That blood for sin must flow. 



Thine infant cries, Lord, 
Thy tears upon the breast, 
Are not enough — the legal sword 
Must do its stern hehest. 



Like sacrificial wine 
Pour'd on a victim's head 
Are those few precious drops of Thine, 
Now first to offering led. 

They are the pledge and seal 
Of Christ's unswerving faith 
Given to His Sire, our souls to heal, 
Although it cost His death. 

They to His Church of old, 
To each true Jewish heart. 
In Gospel graces manifold 
Communion blest impart. 



86 TEE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST, 

Now of Thy love we deem 
As of an ocean vast, 
Mounting in tides against the stream 
Of ages gone and past. 

Both theirs and ours Thou art, 
As we and they are Thine ; 
Kings, Prophets, Patriarchs — all have part 
Along the sacred line. 

By blood and water too 
God's mark is set on Thee, 
That in Thee every faithful view 
Both covenants might see. 

O bond of union, dear 
And strong as is Thy grace ! 
Saints, parted by a thousand year, 
May thus in heart embrace. 

Is there a mourner true, 
Who fallen on faithless days. 
Sighs for the heart-consoling view 
Of those, Heaven deign'd to praise ? 

In spirit mayst thou meet 
With faithful Abraham here. 
Whom soon in Eden thou slialt greet 
A nursing Father dear. 



TEE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST, 37 

"Woiildst thou a poet be ? 
And would thy dull heart fain 
Borrow of Israel's minstrelsy 
One high enraptur'd strain ? 

Come here thy soul to tune, 
Here set thy feeble chant, 
Here, if at all beneath the moon, 
Is holy David's haunt. 

Art thou a child of tears, 
Cradled in care and woe ? 
And seems it hard, thy vernal years 
Few vernal joys can show ? 

And fall the sounds of mirth 
Sad on thy lonely heart, 
From all the hopes and charms of earth 
Untimely call'd to part ? 

Look here, and hold thy peace : 
The Giver of all good 
E'en from the womb takes no release 
From suffering, tears, and blood. 

If thou wouldst reap in love, 
First sow in holy fear : 
So life a winter's morn may prove 
To a bright endless year. 



c^ctontJ d&imtiap after Cfirt^tnia^, 

When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and 
their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, J 
the God of Israel will not forsake them. — Isaiah xli. 17. 

^MgND wilt Thou hear the fever'd heart 
^^^^ To Thee in silence cry ? 
^^^^ And as th' inconstant wildfires dart 

Out of the restless eye, 
Wilt Thou forgive the wayward thought, 
By kindly woes yet half untaught 
A Saviour's right, so dearly bought, 

That Hope should never die ? 

Thou wilt : for many a languid prayer 
Has reach'd Thee from the wild. 

Since the lorn mother, wandering there, 
Cast down her fainting child,^ 

Then stole apart to weep and die, 

Nor knew an angel form was nigh, 

To show soft waters gushing by 
And dewy shadows mild. 

Thou wilt — for Thou art Israel's God, 

. And Thine unwearied arm 
Is ready yet with Moses' rod, 
The hidden rill to charm 

1 Hagar. See Genesis xxi. 15. 



jSECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 39 

Out of the dry unfathom'd deep 
Of sands, that lie in lifeless sleep, 
Save when the scorching whidwinds heap 
Their waves in rude alarm. 

These moments of wild wrath are Thine — 

Thine too the drearier hour 
"When o'er th' horizon's silent line 

Fond hopeless fancies cower, 
And on the traveller's listless way- 
Rises and sets th' unchanging day, 
No cloud in heaven to slake its ray, 

On earth no sheltering bower. 

Thou wilt be there, and not forsake, 

To turn the bitter pool 
Into a bright and breezy lake. 

The throbbing brow to cool : 
Till left awhile with Thee alone 
The wilful heart be fain to own 
That He, by whom our bright hours shone,. 

Our darkness best may rule. 

The scent of water far away 

Upon the breeze is flung : 
The desert pelican to-day 

Securely leaves her young. 
Reproving thankless man, who fears 
To journey on a few lone years, 
"Where on the sand Thy step appears, 

Thy crown in sight is hung. 



40 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. 

Thou, who didst sit on Jacob's well 

The weary hour of noon,^ 
The languid pulses Thou canst tell, 

The nerveless spirit tune. 
Thou from Whose cross in anguish burst 
The cry that own'd Thy dying thirst,^ 
To Thee we turn, our Last and First, 

Our Sun and soothing Moon. 

From darkness, here, and dreariness 

We ask not full repose. 
Only be Thou at hand, to bless 

Our trial hour of woes. 
Is not the pilgrim's toil o'erpaid 
By the clear rill and palmy shade ? 
And see we not, up Earth's dark glade. 

The gate of Heaven unclose ? 

1 St. John iv. 6. 2 ibid. xix. 28. 




And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, 
till it came and stood over ichere the young Child loas. When 
they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. 

St. Matt. ii. 9, 10. 

TAR of the East, how sweet art Thou, 
Seen in life's early morning sky, 
Ere yet a cloud has dimm'd the brow 
While yet we gaze with childish eye ; 

When father, mother, nursing friend, 
Most dearly lov'd, and loving best, 

First bid us from their arms ascend. 
Pointing to Thee in Thy sure rest. 

Too soon the glare of earthly day 
Buries, to us, Thy brightness keen, 

And we are left to find our way 
By faith and hope in Thee unseen. 

What matter ? if the waymarks sure 

On every side are round us set. 
Soon overleap' d, but not obscure ? 

'T is ours to mark them or forget. 

What matter ? if in calm old age 

Our childhood's star again arise. 
Crowning our lonely pilgrimage 

With all that cheers a wanderer's eyes ? 



42 THE EPIPHANY. 

Ne'er may we lose it from our sight, 
Till all our hopes and thoughts. are led 

To where it stays its lucid flight 
Over our Saviour's lowly bed. 

There, swath'd in humblest poverty, 
On Chastity's meek lap enshrin'd, 

With breathless Reverence waiting by, 
When we our sovereign Master find, 

Will not the long-forgotten glow 
Of mingled joy and awe return. 

When stars above or flowers below 
First made our infant spirits burn ? 

Look on us, Lord, and take our parts 
E'en on Thy throne of purity ! 

From these our proud yet grovelling hearts 
Hide not Thy mild forgiving eye. 

Did not the Gentile Church find grace. 
Our mother dear, this favor'd day ? 

With gold and myrrh she sought Thy face, 
Nor didst Thou turn Thy face away. 

She too,^ in earlier, purer days, 

Had watch'd Thee gleaming faint and far • 
But wandering in self-chosen ways 

She lost Thee quite, Thou lovely star. 

1 The Patriarchal Church. 



THE EPIPHANY. 43 

Yet had her Father's finsrer turn'd 
To Thee her first inquiring glance ? 

The deeper shame within her burn'd, 
Wlien waken'd from her wilful tranco. 

Behold, her wisest throng Thy gate, 
Their richest, sweetest, purest store, 

(Yet own'd too worthless and too late,) 
They lavish on Thy cottage-floor. 

They give their best — O tenfold shame 

On us their fallen progeny. 
Who sacrifice the blind and lame ^ — 

Who will not wake or fast with Thee ! 

1 Malachi i. 8. 



They shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water' 
courses. — Isaiah xliv. 4. 

^^(^ ESSONS sweet of spring returning, 
^ mfMl Welcome to the thoughtful heart I 
^^^k. May I call ye sense or learning, 

Instinct pure, or Heaven-taught art ? 
Be your title what it may, 
Sweet the lengthening April day, 
While with you the soul is free, 
Ranging wild o'er hill and lea. 

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning. 

To the inward ear devout, 
Touch'd by light, with heavenly warning 

Your transporting chords ring out. 
Every leaf in every nook. 
Every wave in every brook. 
Chanting with a solemn voice. 
Minds us of our better choice. 

Needs no show of mountain hoary. 
Winding shore or deepening glen. 

Where the landscape in its glory 
Teaches truth to wandering men : 

Give true hearts but earth and sky, 

And some flowers to bloom and die, — 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 45 

Homely scenes and simple views 
Lowly thoughts may best infuse. 

See the soft green willow springing 
Where the waters gently pass, 

Every way her free arms flinging 
O'er the moist and reedy grass. 

Long ere winter blasts are fled, 

See her tipp'd with vernal red, 

And her kindly flower display'd 

Ere her leaf can cast a shade. 

Though the rudest hand assail her, 

Patiently she droojDS av/hile. 
But when showers and breezes hail her, 

Wears again her willing smile. 
Thus I learn Contentment's power 
From the slighted willow bower. 
Ready to give thanks and live 
On the least that Heaven may give. 

If, the quiet brooklet leaving. 

Up the stony vale I wind. 
Haply half in fancy grieving 

For the shades I leave behind, 
By the dusty wayside drear. 
Nightingales with joyous cheer 
Sing, my sadness to reprove, 
Gladlier than in cultur'd grove. 



46 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANT. 

Where the thickest boughs are twining 
Of the greenest, darkest tree, 

There they plunge, the light declining - 
All may hear, but none may see. 

Fearless of the passing hoof, 

Hardly will they fleet aloof ; 

So they live in modest ways, 

Trust entire, and ceaseless praise. 




J^ccoitb ^uitbap after ^jipfjanp* 

Every man at the heginning doth set forth good wine ; and when 
men have well drunlc, then that which is worse: but thou hasi 
kept the good wine until now. — St. John ii. 10. 

HE heart of childhood is all mirth : 

We frolic to and fro 
As free and blithe, as if on earth 
Were no such thing as woe. 

But if indeed with reckless faith 

We trust the flattering voice, 
Which whispers, « Take thy fill ere death, 

Indulge thee and rejoice j " 

Too surely, every setting day, 

Some lost delight we mourn, 
The flowers all die along our way, 

Till we, too, die forlorn. 

Such is the world's gay garish feast. 

In her first charrainor bowl 
Infusing all that fires the breast. 

And cheats th' unstable soul. 

And still, as loud the revel swells. 
The fever'd pulse beats higher, 



48 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Till the sear'd taste from foulest wells 
Is fain to slake its fire. 

Unlike the feast of heavenly love 
Spread at the Saviour's word 

For souls that hear His call, and prove 
Meet for His bridal board. 

Why should we fear, youth's draught of joy, 

If pure, would sparkle less ? 
Why should the cup the sooner cloy, 

Which God hath deign'd to bless ? 

• 
For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen 

Along each bounding vein, 
Still whispering glorious things unseen ? — 

Faith makes the vision plain. 

The world would kill her soon : but Faith 
Her daring dreams will cherish, 

Speeding her gaze o'er time and death 
To realms where nought can perish. 

Or is it Love, the dear delight 
Of hearts that know no guile. 

That all around see all things bright 
With their own magic smile ? 

The silent joy, that sinks so deep, 
Of confidence and rest, 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 49 

LuU'd in a father's arms to sleep, 
Clasp'd to a mother's breast ? 

Who, but a Christian, through all life 

That blessing may prolong ? 
Who, through the world's sad day of strife, 

Still chant his morning song ? 

Fathers may hate us or forsake, 
God's foundlings then are we : 

Mother on child no pity take,^ 
But we shall still have Thee. 

We may look home, and seek in vain 

A fond fraternal heart, 
But Christ hath given His promise plain 

To do a Brother's part. 

Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say, 
The heavenward flame annoy : 

The Saviour cannot pass away, 
And with Him lives our joy. 

Ever the richest, tenderest glow 
Sets round th' autumnal sun — 

But there sight fails : no heart may know 
The bliss when life is done. 

1 Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should 
not have compassion on the son of her womb ? yea, they may 
forget, yet will I not forget thee. — Isaiah xlix. 15. 
4 



50 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Such is Thy banquet, dearest Lord ; 

give us grace, to cast 
Our lot with Thine, to trust Thy word, 

And keep our best till last, 




Cfjirb ^Hitbap after €giii|anp* 

When Jesus heard it, He marvelled, and said to them that fol- 
lowed, Verily 1 say unto you, 1 have not found so great faith, 
no, not in Israel. — St. Matthew viii. 10. 

MAEK'D a rainbow in the north, 
"What time the wild autumnal sun 
From his dark veil at noon look'd forth, 
As glorying in his course half done, 
Flinging soft radiance far and wide 
Over the dusky heaven and bleak hill-side. 

It was a gleam to Memory dear, 

And as I walk and muse apart. 
When all seems faithless round and drear, 

I would revive it in my heart. 
And watch how light can find its way 
To regions farthest from the fount of day. . 

Light flashes in the gloomiest sky, 
And Music in the dullest plain. 
For there the lark is soaring high 
Over her flat and leafless reign. 
And chanting in so blithe a tone. 
It shames the weary heart to feel itself alone. 



Brighter than rainbow in the north. 
More cheery than the matin lark. 
Is the soft gleam of Christian worth, 



52 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

Which on some holy house we mark ; 
Dear to the pastor's aching heart 
To think, where'er he looks, such gleam may 
have a part ; 

May dwell, unseen by all but Heaven, 

Like diamond blazing in the mine ; 
For ever, where such grace is given, 

It fears in open day to shine,^ 
Lest the deep stain it owns within 
Break out, and Faith be sham'd by the believ- 
er's sin. 

In silence and afar they wait. 

To find a prayer their Lord may hear : 
Voice of the poor and desolate, 

You best may bring it to His ear ; 
Your grateful intercessions rise 
With more than royal pomp, and pierce the 
skies. 

1 Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest enter under 
my roof. — St. Luke vii. 6. 

" From the first time that the impressions of religion settled 
deeply in his mind, he used great caution to conceal it; not 
only in obedience to the rule given by our Saviour, of fasting, 
praying, and giving alms in secret, but from a particular dis- 
trust he had of himself; for he said he was afraid he should at 
some time or other do some enormous thing, which, if he were 
looked on as a very religious man, might cast a reproach on 
the profession of it, and give great advantages to impioua 
men to blaspheme the name of God." — Burnet's Life of Hale^ 
n Wordsworth'' s Eccl. Biog. vi. 73. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 53 

Happy the soul, whose precious cause 

You in the Sovereign Presence plead — 
** This is the lover of Thy laws/ 

The friend of Thine in fear and need " — 
For to the poor Thy mercy lends 
That solemn style, " Thy nation and Thy 
friends." 

He too is blest, whose outward eye 

The graceful lines of art may trace, 
Wliile his free spirit, soaring high. 

Discerns the glorious from the base ; 
Till out of dust his magic raise ^ 
A home for prayer and love, and full harmoni- 
ous praise, 

Where far away and high above, 
In maze on maze the tranced sight 

Strays, mindful of that heavenly love 
Which knows no end in depth or height, 

While the strong breath of Music seems 
To waft us ever on, soaring in blissful dreams. 

What though in poor and humble guise 
Thou here didst sojourn, cottage-born ? 

Yet from Thy glory in the skies 

Our earthly gold Thou dost not scorn. 

1 He loveth our nation. — St. Luke vii. 5. 

2 He hath built us a synagogue. — Ibid. 



54 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

For Love delights to bring her best, 
And where Love is, that offering evermore is 
blest. 

Love on the Saviour's dying head 

Her spikenard drops unbalm'd may pour, 
May mount His cross, and wrap Him dead 

In spices from the golden shore,-^ 
Risen, may embalm His sacred name 
With all a Painter's art, and all a Minstrel's 
flame. 

Worthless and lost our offerings seem. 

Drops in the ocean of His praise ; 
But Mercy with her genial beam 

Is ripening them to pearly blaze. 
To sparkle in His crown above. 
Who welcomes here a child's as there an angel's 
love. 

1 St. Johnxii. 7; xix. 30. 




f outti) ^mtfeap after €gis|aitp* 

When they saw Eim, they besought Him that he would depart 
out of their coasts. — St. Matthew viii. 34. 

SHEY know th' Almighty's power, 
Who, waken'd by the rushing midnight 
shower, 
Watch for the fitful breeze 
To howl and chafe amid the bending trees, 

Watch for the still white gleam 
To bathe the landscape in a fiery stream. 
Touching the tremulous eye with sense of light 
Too rapid and too pure for all but angel sight. 

They know th' Almighty's love. 
Who, when the whirlwinds rock the topmost 
grove. 
Stand in the shade, and hear 
The tumult with a deep exulting fear, 

How, in their fiercest sway, 
Curb'd by some power unseen, they die away, 
Like a bold steed that owns his rider's arm. 
Proud to be check'd and sooth'd by that o'er- 
mastering charm. 

But there are storms within 
That heave the struggling heart with wilder 
din, 



56 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

And there is power and love 
The maniac's rushing frenzy to reprove ; 

And when he takes his seat, 
Cloth'd and in calmness, at his Saviour's feet,^ 
Is not the power as strange, the love as blest, 
As when He said, Be still, and ocean sank to 
rest ? 

Woe to the wayward heart, 
That gladlier turns to eye the shuddering start 

Of Passion in her might. 
Than marks the silent growth of grace and 
light; — 
Pleas'd in the cheerless tomb 
To linger, while the morning rays illume 
Green lake, and cedar tuft, and spicy glade, 
Shaking their dewy tresses now the storm is laid. 

The storm is laid — and now 
In His meek power He climbs the mountain's 
brow. 
Who bade the waves go sleep, 
And lash'd the vex'd fiends to their yawning 
deep. 
How on a rock they stand, 
Who watch His eye, and hold His guiding 

hand ! 
Not half so fix'd, amid her vassal hills, 
Rises the holy pile that Kedron's valley fills. 
1 St. Mark V. 15; iv. 39. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 57 

And wilt tliou seek again 
Thy howling waste, thy charnel-house and 
chain, 
And with the demons be, 
Rather than clasp thine own Deliverer's knee ? 

Sure 't is no Heaven-bred awe 
That bids thee from His healing touch with- 
draw; 
The world and He are struggling in thine 
heart, 
And in thy reckless mood thou bidd'st thy Lord 
depart. 

He, merciful and mild. 
As erst, beholding, loves His wayward child ; 

When souls of highest birth 
Waste their impassion'd might on dreams of 
earth. 
He opens Nature's book. 
And on His glorious Gospel bids them look, 
Till by such chords, as rule the choirs above. 
Their lawless cries are tun'd to hymns of per- 
fect love. 




Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save ; 
neither His ear heavy, that it cannot hear: but your iniquities 
have separated between you and your God. — Isaiah lix. 1, 2. 

^I^AKE, arm divine ! awake, 
Eye of the only Wise ! 
Now for Thy glory's sake, 
Saviour and God, arise. 
And may Thine ear, that sealed seems, 
In pity mark our mournful themes ! " 

Thus in her lonely hour 

Thy Church is fain to cry, 
As if Thy love and power 
Were vanish'd from her sky ; 
Yet God is there, and at His side 
He triumphs. Who for sinners died. 

Ah ! 't is the world enthralls 

The Heaven-betrothed breast : 
The traitor Sense recalls 
The soaring soul from rest. 
That bitter sigh was all for earth. 
For glories gone, and vanish'd mirth. 

Age would to youth return. 

Farther from Heaven would be, 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 59 

To feel the wildfire burn, 
On idolizing knee 
Again to fall, and rob Thy shrine 
Of hearts, the right of love divine. 

Lord of this erring flock ! 

Thou whose soft showers distil 
On ocean waste or rock, 
Free as on Hermon hill, 
Do Thou our craven spirits cheer, 
And shame away the selfish tear. 

'T was silent all and dead ^ 

Beside the barren sea. 
Where Philip's steps were led, 
Led by a voice from Thee — 
He rose and went, nor ask'd Thee why. 
Nor stay'd to heave one faithless sigh : 

Upon his lonely way 

The high-born traveller came, 
Reading a mournful lay 

Of " One who bore our shame,^ 
Silent Himself, His name untold, 
And yet His glories were of old." 

To muse what Heaven might mean 
His wondering brow he rais'd, 

1 See Acts viii. 26-4(>. 2 Isaiah liii. 6-8. 



60 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

And met an eye serene 

That on him watchful gaz'd. 
No Hermit e'er so welcome cross'd 
A child's lone path in woodland lost. 

Now wonder turns to love ; 
The scrolls of sacred lore 
No darksome mazes prove ; 
The desert tires no more : 
They bathe where holy waters flow 
Then on their way rejoicing go. 

They part to meet in Heaven ; 

But of the joy they share, 
Absolving and forgiven, 

The sweet remembrance bear. 
Yes — mark him well, ye cold and proud, 
Bewilder'd in a heartless crowd. 

Starting and turning pale 

At Rumor's angry din — 
No storm can now assail 
The charm he wears within. 
Rejoicing still, and doing good, 
And with the thought of God imbu'd. 

No glare of high estate, 
No gloom of woe or want. 

The radiance can abate 

Where Heaven delights to haunt : 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 61 

Sin only hides the genial ray, 

And, round the Cross, makes night of day. 

Then weep it from thy heart ; 

So mayst thou duly learn 
The intercessor's part. 

Thy prayers and tears may earn 
For fallen souls some healing breath, 
Ere they have died th' Apostate's death. 




^ixt^ S>iinha'p after ^$i$^artp. 

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear 
tohat we shall he : but we know that, when He shall appear, we 
shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is. — 1 St. 
John iii. 2. 

'HERE are, who darkling and alone, 
Would wish the weary night were 
gone. 

Though dawning morn should only show 
The secret of their unknown woe : 
Who pray for sharpest throbs of pain 
' To ease them of doubt's galling chain : 
" Only disperse the cloud," they cry, 
" And if our fate be death, give light and let us 
die." 1 

Unwise I deem them, Lord, unmeet 
To profit by Thy chastenings sweet, 
For Thou wouldst have us linger still 
Upon the verge of good or ill, 
That on Thy guiding hand unseen 
Our undivided hearts may lean, 
And this our frail and foundering bark 
Glide in the narrow wake of Thy beloved ark. 

'T is so in war — the champion true 
Loves victory more, when dim in view 

^ 'Ev de (pdec Kot o}\^aaov. 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 63 

He sees her glories gild afar 
The dusky edge of stubborn war, 
Then if th' untrodden bloodless field 
The harvest of her laurels yield ; 
Let not my bark in calm abide, 
But win her fearless way against the chafing 
tide. 

'T is so in love, — the faithful heart 
From her dim vision would not part, 
When first to her fond gaze is given 
That purest spot in Fancy's heaven. 
For all the gorgeous sky beside. 
Though pledg'd her own and sure t' abide : 
Dearer than every past noon-day 
That twilight gleam to her, though faint and far 
away. 

So have I seen some tender flower 
Priz'd above all the vernal bower, 
Shelter'd beneath the coolest shade, 
Embosom'd in the greenest glade, 
So frail a gem, it scarce may bear 
The playful touch of evening air ; 
When hardier grown we love it less, 
And trust it from our sight, not needing our 
caress. 

And wherefore is the sweet spring tide 
Worth all the changeful year beside ? 



64 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 

The last-born babe, why lies its part 
Deep in the mother's inmost heart ? 
But that the Lord and source of love 
Would have His weakest ever prove 
Our tenderest care — and most of all 
Our frail iiiunortal souls, His work and Satan's 
thrall. 

So be it, Lord ; I know it best. 
Though not as yet this wayward breast 
Beat quite in answer to Thy voice. 
Yet surely I have made my choice ; 
I know not yet the promis'd bliss. 
Know not if I shall win or miss ; 
So doubting, rather let me die, 
Than close with aught beside, to last eternally. 

What is the heaven we idly dream ? 
The self-deceiver's dreary theme, 
A cloudless sun that softly shines. 
Bright maidens and unfaihng vines, 
The warrior's pride,, the hunter's mirth, 
Poor fragments all of this low earth : 
Such as in sleep would hardly soothe 
A soul that once had tasted of immortal Truth. 

What is the Heaven our God bestows ? 
No Prophet yet, no Angel knows ; 
Was never yet created eye 
Could see across Eternity ; 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. G.'i 

Not seraph's wing for ever soaring 
Can pass the flight of souls adoring, 
That nearer still and nearer grow 
To th' unapproached Lord, once made for them 
so low. 

Unseen, unfelt their earthly growth. 
And self-accus'd of sin and sloth 
They live and die ; their names decay, 
Their fragrance passes quite away ; 
Like violets in the freezing blast 
No vernal steam around they cast, — 
But they shall flourish from the tomb. 
The breath of God shall wake then into od'rous 
bloom. 

Then on th' incarnate Saviour's breast, 
The fount of sweetness, they shall rest, 
Their spirits every hour imbu'd 
More deeply with His precious blood. 
But peace — still voice and closed eye 
Suit best with hearts beyond the sky, 
Hearts training in their low abode, 
Daily to lose themselves in hope to find their 
God. 




The invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are 
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made. — 
KOMANS i. 20. 

HERE is a book, who runs may read, 
Which heavenly truth imparts, 
And all the lore its scholars need, 
Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 

The works of God above, below, 

Within us and around, 
Are pages in that book, to show 

How God Himself is found. 

The glorious sky embracing all 

Is like the Maker's love, 
Wherewith encompass'd, great and small 

In peace and order move. 

The Moon above, the Church below, 

A wondrous race they run, 
But all their radiance, all their glow. 

Each borrows of its Sun. 

The Saviour lends the light and heat 
That crowns His holy hill ; 



8EPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 67 

The saints, like stars, around His seat, 
Perform their courses still.^ 

The saints above are stars in Heaven — 
What are the saints on earth ? 

Like trees they stand whom God has given,^ 
Our Eden's happy birth. 

Faith is their fix'd unswerving root, 

Hope their unfading flower, 
Fair deeds of charity their fruit. 

The glory of their bower. 

The dew of Heaven is like Thy grace,^ 

It steals in silence down ; 
But where it lights, the favor'd place 

By richest fruits is known. 

One Name above all glorious names 
With its ten thousand tongues 

The everlasting sea proclaims. 
Echoing angelic songs. 

The raging Fire,^ the roaring Wind, 
Thy boundless power display : 

But in the gentler breeze we find 
Thy Spirit's viewless way.^ 

1 Daniel xii. 3. 2 Isaiah Ix. 21. 

3 Psalm Ixviii. 9. 4 Hebrews xii. 29. 

5 St. John iii. 8. 



68 8EPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

Two worlds are ours : 't is only Sin 

Forbids us to descry 
The mystic heaven and earth within, 

Plain as the sea and sky. 

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see 
And love this sight so fair, 

Give me a heart to find out Thee, 
And read Thee evervwhere. 




So He drove out the man; and He placed at the east of the gar- 
den of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned 
every way^ to keep the way of the tree of life. — Gen. iii. 24 ; 
compare chap. vi. 

OE of mankind ! too bold thy race : 
Thou runn'st at such a reckless pace, 
Thine own dire work thou siu"ely wilt 
confound ; 
'T was but one little drop of sin 
We saw this morning enter in, 
And lo ! at eventide the world is drown'd. , 

See here the fruit of wandering eyes, 

Of worldly longings to be wise, 
Of Passion dwelling on forbidden sweets : 

Ye lawless glances, freely rove ; 

Ruin below and wrath above 
Are all that now the wildering fancy meets. 

Lord, when in some deep garden glade. 
Of Thee and of myself afraid. 
From thoughts like these among the bowers I 
hide, 
Nearest and loudest then of all 
I seem to hear the Judge's call : — 
-* Where art thou, fallen man ? come forth, and 
be thou tried." 



70 SEXAGE8IMA SUNDAY. 

Trembling before Thee as I stand, 
Where'er I gaze on either hand 

The sentence is gone forth, the ground is curs'd : 
Yet mingled with the penal shower 
Some drops of balm in every bower 

Steal down like April dews, that softest fall and 
first. 

If filial and maternal love ^ 
Memorial of our guilt must prove, 

If sinful babes in sorrow must be born, 
Yet, to assuage her sharpest throes, 
The faithful mother surely knows, 

This was the way Thou cam'st to save the world 
forlorn. 

If blessed wedlock may not bless ^ 
Without some tinge of bitterness 

To dash her cup of joy, since Eden lost, 
Chaining to earth with strong desire 
Hearts that would highest else aspire. 

And o'er the tenderer sex usurjDing ever most : 

Yet by the light of Christian lore 
'T is blind Idolatry no more. 
But a sweet help and pattern of true love, 
Showing how best the soul may cling 

1 In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children. 

2 Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule 
over thee. 



SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 71 

To her immortal Spouse and King, 
How He should rule, and she with full desire 
approve. 

If niggard Earth her treasures hide,^ 
To all but laboring hands denied, 

Lavish of thorns and worthless weeds alone. 
The doom is half in mercy given 
To train us in our way to Heaven, 

And show our lagging souls how glory must be 
won. 

If on the sinner's outward frame ^ 
God hath impress'd His mark of blame. 

And e'en our bodies shrink at touch of light, 
Yet mercy hath not left us bare : 
The very weeds we daily wear ^ 

Are to Faith's eye a pledge of God's forgiving 
might. 



And oh ! if yet one arrow more,* 

The sharpest of th' Almighty's store, 
Tremble upon the string — a sinner's death — 

Art Thou not by to soothe and save. 

To lay us gently in the grave. 
To close the weary eye and hush the parting 
breath ? 

1 Cursed is the ground for thy sake. 

2 I was afraid, because I was naked. 

3 The Lord God made, coats of skins, and clothed them. 

4 Thou shalt surely die. 



72 SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

Therefore in sight of man bereft 
The happy garden still was left, 

The fieiy sword that guarded show'd it too, 
Turning all ways, the world to teach. 
That though as yet beyond our reach. 

Still in its place the tree of life and glory grew. 




Z do set My how in the cloudy and it shall he for a toJcen of a 
covenant between Me and the earth. — Genesis ix. 13. 

WEET Dove! the softest, steadiest 
plume 
In all the sunbright sky, 
Brightening in ever-changeful bloom 
As breezes change on high ; — 

Sweet Leaf! the pledge of peace and mirth, 
" Long sought, and lately won," 

Bless'd increase of reviving Earth, 
When first it felt the Sun ; — 

Sweet Eainbow ! pride of summer days, 
Hiffh set at Heaven's command. 

Though into drear and dusky haze 
Thou melt on either hand : — 

Dear tokens of a pardoning God, 

We hail ye, one and all. 
As when our fathers walk'd abroad, 

Freed from their twelvemonth's thrall. 

How joyful from th' imprisoning ark 
On the green earth they spring ! 

Not blither, after showers, the Lark 
Mounts up with glistening wing. 



74 aVINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 

So home-bound sailors spring to shore, 

Two oceans safely past ; 
So happy souls, when life is o'er, 

Plunge in th' empyreal vast. 

What wins their first and fondest gaze 

In all the blissful field, 
And keeps it through a thousand days ? 

Love face to face reveal'd : 

Love imag'd in that cordial look 

Our Lord in Eden bends 
On souls that sin and earth forsook 

In time to die His friends. 

And what most welcome and serene 
Dawns on the Patriarch's eye. 

In all th' emerging hills so green. 
In all the brightening sky ? 

What but the gentle rainbow's gleam, 

Soothing the wearied sight. 
That cannot bear the solar beam. 

With soft undazzling light ? 

Lord, if our fathers turn'd to Thee 

With such adoring gaze, 
Wondering frail man Thy light should see 

Without Thy scorching blaze ; 



QUINQVAGESIMA SUNDAY. 75 

Where is our love, and where our hearts, 

We who have seen Thy Son, 
Have tried Thy Spirit's winning arts, 

And yet we are not won ? 

The Son of God in radiance beam'd 

Too bright for us to scan, 
But we may face the rays that stream'd 

From the mild Son of Man. 

There, parted into rainbow hues. 

In sweet harmonious strife, 
We see celestial love diffuse 

Its light o'er Jesus' life. 

God, by His bow, vouchsafes to write 

This truth in Heaven above ; 
As every lovely hue is Light, 

So every grace is Love. 




When thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face ; thai 
thou appear not unto men to fast, hut unto thy Father which, 
is in secret. — St. Matthew vi. 17. 

'ES — deep within and deeper yet 

The rankling shaft of conscience hide. 
Quick let the swelling eye forget 
The tears that in the heart abide. 
Calm be the voice, the aspect bold, 

No shuddering pass o'er lip or brow, 
For why should Innocence be told 
The pangs that guilty spirits bow ? 

" The loving eye that watches thine 

Close as the air that wraps thee round — 
Why in thy sorrow should it pine, 

Since never of thy sin it found ? 
And wherefore should the heathen see ^ 

What chains of darkness thee enslave, 
And mocking say, Lo, this is he 

Who own'd a God that could not save ? " 

Thus oft the mourner's wayward heart 
Tempts him to hide his grief and die, 

Too feeble for Confession's smart, 
Too proud to bear a pitying eye ; 

1 Wherefore should they say among the people, Where is 
theirGod?— JbeZii. 17. 



ASH-WEDNESDAT, 77 

How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall 

On bosoms waiting to receive 
Our sighs, and gently whisper all ! 

They love us — will not God forgive ? 

Else let us keep our fast within, 

Till Heaven and we are quite alone, 
Then let the grief, the shame, the sin. 

Before the mercy-seat be thrown. 
Between the porch and altar weep. 

Unworthy of the holiest place, 
Yet hoping near the shrine to keep 

One lowly cell in sight of grace. 

Nor fear lest sympathy should fail — 

Hast thou not seen, in night-hours drear, 
"When racking thoughts the heart assail. 

The glimmering stars by turns appear, 
And from th' eternal home above 

With silent news of mercy steal ? 
So Angels pause on tasks of love. 

To look where sorrowing sinners kneel. 

Or if no Angel pass that way. 

He who in secret sees, perchance 
May bid His own heart-warming ray 

Toward thee stream with kindlier glance, 
As when upon His drooping head 

His Father's light was pour'd from Heaven, 



78 A SH- WEDNESDA 7. 

What time, unshelter'd and unfed/ 
Far in the wild His steps were driven. 

High thoughts were with Him in that hour, 

Untold, unspeakable on earth — 
And who can stay the soaring power 

Of spirits wean'd from worldly mirth, 
While far beyond the sound of praise 

With upward eye they float serene, 
And learn to bear their Saviour's blaze 

When Judgment shall undraw the screen ? 

1 St. Matt. iv. 1. 



fit^t ^uti&ap in %mt 

Haste tJiee, escape Ihiiher ; for I cannot do any thing till thou be 
come thither. Therefore the name of the city was called 
Zoar. — Genesis xix. 22. 

^^^NGEL of wrath ! why linger in mid air, 
^^^g While the devoted city's cry 
^^^^ Louder and louder swells ? and canst 
thou spare, 

Thy full-charg'd vial standing by ? " 
Thus, with stern voice, unsparing Justice pleads : 

He hears her not — with soften'd gaze 
His eye is following where sweet Mercy leads, 
And till she give the sign, his fury stays. 

Guided by her, along the mountain road, 
Far through the twilight of the morn, 

With hurrying footsteps from th' accurs'd abode 
He sees the holy household borne : 

Angels, or more, on either hand are nigh, 
To speed them o'er the tempting plain, 

Lingering in heart, and with frail sidelong eye 

Seeking how near they may unharm'd remain. 

" Ah ! wherefore gleam those upland slopes so 
fair? 

And why, through every woodland arch, 
Swells yon bright vale, as Eden rich and rare, 

Where Jordan winds his stately march ; 



80 FIR^T SUNDAY IN LENT. 

If all must be forsaken, ruin'd all, 

If God have planted but to burn ? — 
Surely not yet tli' avenging shower will fall, 
Though to my home for one last look I turn." 

Thus while they waver, surely long ago 

They had provok'd the withering blast, 

But that the merciful Avengers know 

Their frailty well, and hold them fast. 

" Haste, for thy life escape, nor look behind " — 
Ever in thrilling sounds like these 

They check the wandering eye, severely kind. 

Nor let the sinner lose his soul at ease. 

And when, o'erwearied with the steep ascent, 

We for a nearer refuge crave. 
One little spot of ground in mercy lent, 

One hour of home before the grave, 
Oft in His pity o'er His children weak, 

His hand withdraws the penal fire, 
And where we fondly cling, forbears to wreak 
Full vengeance, till our hearts are wean'd entire. 

Thus, by the merits of one righteous man, 
The Church, our Zoar, shall abide, 

Till she abuse, so sore, her lengthen'd span. 
E'en Mercy's self her face must hide. 

Then, onward yet a step, thou hard-won soul ; 
Though in the Church thou know thy place, 



FIBST SUNDAY IN LENT. 81 

The mountain farther lies — there seek thy goal, 
There breathe at large, o'erpast thy dangerous 
race. 

Sweet is the smile of home ; the mutual look 
When hearts are of each other sure ; 

Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook, 
The haunt of all affections pure : 

Yet in the world e'en these abide, and we 
Above the world our calling boast : 

Once gain the mountain-top, and thou art free : 

Till then, who rest, presume ; who turn to look, 
are lost. 




J>ccon& dSun&ap in %mu 

And when Esau heard the words of his father, he cried with a 
great and exceeding hitter cry, and said unto his father, Bless 
me, even me also, my father. — Gen. xxvii. 34. (Com- 
pare Hebrews xii. 17. He found no place of repentance, 
though he sought it carefully with tearsA) 

•ND is there in God's world so drear a 
place 
Where the loud bitter cry is rais'd in 
vain ? 
Where tears of penance come too late for grace, 
As on th' uprooted flower the genial rain?" 

*T is even so : the sovereign Lord of souls 
Stores in the dungeon of His boundless realm 

Each bolt, that o'er the sinner vainly rolls, 
With gather'd wrath the reprobate to whelm. 

Will the storm hear the sailor's piteous cry,^ 
Taught to mistrust, too late, the tempting 
wave, 

1 The author earnestly hopes, that nothing in these stanzas 
will be understood to express any opinion as to the general 
efficacy of what is called "a death-bed repentance." Such 
questions are best left in the merciful obscurity with which 
Scripture has enveloped them. Esau's probation, as far as his 
birthright was concerned, was quite over when he uttered the 
cry in the text. His despondency, therefore, is not parallel 
to anything on this side the grave. 

« Compare Bp. Butler's Analogy, pp. 54r-64, ed. 1736. 



SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. 83 

m 
When all around he sees but sea and sky, 
A God in anger, a self-chosen grave ? 

Or will the thorns, that strew intemperance' bed, 
Turn with a wish to down ? will late remorse 

Recall the shaft the murderer's hand has sped, 
Or from the guiltless bosom turn its course ? 

Then may the unbodied soul in safety fleet 
Through the dark curtains of the world above, 

Fresh from the stain of crime ; nor fear to meet 
The God, whom here she would not learn to 
love : 

Then is there hope for such as die unblest. 
That angel wings may waft them to the shore. 

Nor need th' unready virgin strike her breast. 
Nor wait desponding round the bridegroom's 
door. 

But where is then the stay of contrite hearts ? 

Of old they lean'd on Thy eternal word. 
But with the sinner's fear their hope departs. 

Fast link'd as Thy great Name to Thee, O 
Lord : 

That Name, by which Thy faithful oath is past. 
That we should endless be, for joy or woe : — 

And if the treasures of Thy wrath could waste, 
Thy lovers must their promis'd Heaven forego. 



84 SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. 

But ask of elder days, earth's vernal hour, 
When in familiar talk God's voice was heard, 

When at the Patriarch's call the fiery shower 
Propitious o'er the turf-built shrine appear'd. 

Watch by our father Isaac's pastoral door — 
The birthright sold, the blessing lost and won. 

Tell, Heaven has wrath that can relent no more, 
The Grave, dark deeds that cannot be un- 
done. 

We barter life for pottage ; sell true bliss 

For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown ; 

Thus, Esau-like, our Father's blessing miss. 
Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown. 

Our faded crown, despis'd and flung aside. 
Shall on some brother's brow immortal bloom, 

No partial hand the blessing may misguide ; 
No flattering fancy change our Monarch's 
doom : 

His righteous doom, that meek true-hearted 
Love 
The everlasting birthright should receive, 
The softest dews drop on her from above,^ 
The richest green her mountain garland 
weave : 

1- Genesis xxvii. 27, 28. 



SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. 85 



* 



Her brethren, mightiest, wisest, eldest born. 
Bow to her sway, and move at her behest : 

Isaac's fond blessing may not fall on scorn. 
Nor Balaam's cm-se on Love, which God hath 
blest. 



€|5ir& dS^mtfeap in %tnt 

When a strong man armed heepeth his palace, his goods are in 
peace ; but when a stronger than he shall come upon him, and 
overcome him, he taJceih from him all his armor wherein he 
trusted, and divideth his sp)oils. — St. Luke xi. 21, 22. 

|V|EE Lucifer like lightning fall, 
" Dash'd from his throne of pride ; 

While, answering Thy victorious call, 
The Saints his spoils divide ; 
This world of Thine, by him usurp'd too long. 
Now opening all her stores to heal Thy servants' 
wrong. 

So when the first-born of Thy foes 

Dead in the darkness lay. 
When Thy redeem'd at midnight rose 
And cast their bonds away. 
The orphan'd realm threw wide her gates, and 
told 
Into freed Israel's lap her jewels and her gold. 

And when their wondrous march was o'er, 

And they had won their homes. 
Where Abraham fed his flock of yore, 
Among their fathers' tombs ; — 
A land that drinks the rain of Heaven at will, 
Whose waters kiss the feet of many a vine-clad 
hill; — 



THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. 87 

Oft as they watch'd, at thoughtful eve, 

A gale from bowers of balm 
Sweep o'er the billowy corn, and heave 
The tresses of the palm, 
Just as the lingering Sun had touch'd witli 
gold, 
Far o'er the cedar shade, some tower of giants 
old; 

It was a fearful joy, I ween. 

To trace the Heathen's toil, 
The limpid wells, the orchards green. 
Left ready for the spoil. 
The household stores untouch'd, the roses 
bright 
Wreath'd o'er the cottage walls in garlands of 
delight. 

And now another Canaan yields 

To Thine all-conquering ark ; — 
Fly from the " old poetic " fields,^ 
Ye Paynim shadows dark ! 
Immortal G-reece, dear land of glorious lays, 
Lo ! here the " unknown God " of thy uncon- 
scious praise ! 

The olive-wreath, the ivied wand, 
" The sword in myrtles drest," 

1 Where each old poetic mountain 

Inspiration breath' d around. — Gray. 



88 THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Each legend of the shadowy strand 
Now wakes a vision blest ; 
As little children lisp, and tell of Heaven, 
So thoughts beyond their thought to those high 
Bards were given. 

And these are ours : Thy partial grace 

The tempting treasure lends : 
These relics of a guilty race 
Are forfeit to Thy friends : 
What seem'd an idol hymn, now breathes of 
Thee, 
Tun'd by Faith's ear to some celestial melody. 

There 's not a strain to Memory dear ^ 

Nor flower in classic grove, 
There 's not a sweet note warbled here. 
But minds us of Thy Love. 
O Lord, our Lord, and spoiler of our foes. 
There is no light but Thine : with Thee all 
beauty glows. 

1 See Bums's "Works, i. 293. Dr. Currie's edition. 




f ourt!) J>im.&ap in Kent* 

Joseph made haste ; for Ms bowels did yearn upon his brother .■ 
and he sought where to weep ; and he entered into his cham- 
ber, and ioept there. — Gen. xliii. 30. 

There stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself knoum 
unto his brethren. — Gen. xlv. 1. 

■ HEN Nature tries her finest touch, 
Weaving her vernal wreath, 
Mark ye, how close she veils her round, 
Not to be trac'd by sight or sound, 
Nor soil'd by ruder breath ? 

Who ever saw the earliest rose 

First open her sweet breast ? 
Or, when the summer sun goes down, 
The first soft star in evening's crown 

Light up her gleaming crest ? 

Fondly we seek the dawning bloom 

On features wan and fair, — 
The gazing eye no change can trace, 
But look away a little space. 

Then turn, and, lo ! 't is there. 

But there 's a sweeter flower than e'er 

Blush'd on the rosy spray — 
A brighter star, a richer bloom 



90 FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Than e'er did western heaven illume 
At close of summer day. 

*T is Love, the last best gift of Heaven ; 

Love, gentle, holy, pure ; 
But tenderer than a dove's soft eye, 
The searching sun, the open sky, 

She never could endure. 

E'en human Love will shrink from sight 

Here in the coarse rude earth : 
How then should rash intruding glance 
Break in upon her sacred trance 
Who boasts a heavenly birth ? 

So still and secret is her growth, 

Ever the truest heart, 
"Where deepest strikes her kindly root 
For hope or joy, for flower or fruit. 

Least knows its happy part. 

God only, and good angels, look 
Behind the blissful screen — 
As when, triumphant o'er His woes, 
The Son of God by moonlight rose, 
By all but Heaven unseen : 

As when the holy Maid beheld 
Her risen Son and Lord : 
Thought has not colors half so fair 



FOVETH SUNDAY IN LENT. 91 

That she to paint that hour may dare, 
In silence best ador'd. 

The gracious Dove, that brought from Heaven 

The earnest of our bliss, 
Of many a chosen witness telling. 
On many a happy vision dwelling, 

Sings not a note of this. 

So, truest image of the Christ, 

Old Israel's long-lost son, 
What time, with sweet forgiving cheer. 
He call'd his conscious brethren near. 

Would weep with them alone. 

He could not trust his melting soul 

But in his Maker's sight — 
Then why should gentle hearts and true 
Bare to the rude world's withering view 

Their treasure of delight ! 

No — let the dainty rose awhile 

Her bashful fragrance hide — 
Rend not her silken veil too soon. 
But leave her, in her own soft noon. 

To flourish and abide. 




f iftfl J^un&ap in %tnu 

And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, 
why the bush is not burnt. — Exodus iii. 3. 

H' historic Muse, from age to age, 
Thro' many a waste heart-sickening page 
Hath trac'd the works of Man : 
But a celestial call to-day 
Stays her, like Moses, on her way, 
The works of God to scan. 

Far seen across the sandy wild, 
Where, like a solitary child, 

He thoughtless roam'd and free, 
One towering thorn ^ was wrapt in flame — 
Bright without blaze it went and came : 

Who would not turn and see ? 

Along the mountain ledges green 
The scatter'd sheep at will may glean 

The Desert's spicy stores : 
The while, with undivided heart, 
The shepherd talks with God apart, 

And, as he talks, adores. 



••? 



Ye too, who tend Christ's wildering flock, 
Well may ye gather round the rock 

1 " Sench: " said to be a sort of Acacia. 



FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 93 

That once was Sion's hill : 
To watch the fire upon the mount 
Still blazing, like the solar fount, 

Yet unconsuming still. 

Caught from that blaze by wrath divine. 
Lost branches of the once-lov'd vine, 

Now wither'd, spent, and sere. 
See Israel's sons, like glowing brands, 
Toss'd wildly o'er a thousand lands 

For twice a thousand year. 

God will not quench nor slay them quite, 
But lifts them like a beacon-light 

Th' apostate Church to scare ; 
Or like pale ghosts that darkling roam, 
Hovering around their ancient home, 

But find no refuge there. 

Ye blessed Angels ! if of you 
There be, who love the ways to view 

Of Kings and Kingdoms here ; 
(And sure, 't is worth an Angel's gaze, 
To see, throughout that dreary maze, 

God teaching love and fear :) 

Oh say, in all the bleak expanse, 
Is there a spot to win your glance, 

So bright, so dark as this ? 
A hopeless faith, a homeless race. 



94 FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Yet seeking the most holy place, 
And owning the true bliss ! 

Salted with fire they seem,^ to show 
How spirits lost in endless woe 

May undecaying live. 
Oh, sickening thought ! yet hold it fast 
Long as this glittering world shall last. 

Or sin at heart survive. 

And hark ! amid the flashing fire. 
Mingling with tones of fear and ire, 

Soft Mercy's undersong — 
'T is Abraham's God who speaks so loud, 
His people's cries have pierc'd the cloud. 

He sees. He sees their wrong ; ^ 

He is come down to break their chain ; 
Though never more on Sion's fane 

His visible ensign wave ; 
'T is Sion, wheresoe'er they dwell. 
Who, with His own true Israel, 

Shall own Him strong to save. 

He shall redeem them one by one. 

Where'er the world-encircling sun 

Shall see them meekly kneel : 

1 St. Mark ix. 49. 2 Exod. iii. 7, 8. 



FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 95 

All that He asks on Israel's part, 
Is only, that the captive heart 
Its woe and burden feel. 

Gentiles ! with fix'd yet awful eye 
Turn ye this page of mystery. 

Nor slight the warning sound : 
" Put off thy shoes from off thy feet — 
The place where man his God shall meet, 

Be sure, is holy ground." 




And He answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these 
should hold their peace, the stones loould immediately cry out. 

St. Luke xix. 40. 

'E whose hearts are beating high 
With the pulse of Poesy, 
Heirs of more than royal race, 
Fram'd by Heaven's peculiar grace, 
God's own work to do on earth, 
(If the word be not too bold,) 
Giving virtue a new birth, 
And a life that ne'er grows old — 

Sovereign masters of all hearts ! 
Know ye, who hath set your parts ? 
He who gave you breath to sing. 
By whose strength ye sweep the string, 
He hath chosen you, to lead 

His Hosannas here below ; — 
Mount, and claim your glorious meed ; 

Linger not with sin and woe. 

But if ye should hold your peace, 
Deem not that the song would cease — 
Angels round His glory-throne. 
Stars, His guiding hand that own, 
Flowers, that grow beneath our feet, 



PALM SUNDAY. 97 

Stones in earth's dark womb that rest, 
High and low in choir shall meet, 
Ere His Name shall be unblest. 

Lord, by every minstrel tongue 
Be Thy praise so duly sung, 
That Thine angels' harps may ne'er 
Fail to find fit echoing here : 
We the while, of meaner birth, 

Who in that divinest spell 
Dare not hope to join on earth. 

Give us grace to listen well. 

But should thankless silence seal 
Lips, that might half Heaven reveal, 
Should bards in idol-hymns profane 
The sacred soul-enthralling strain, 
(As in this bad world below 

Noblest things find vilest using,) 
Then, Thy power and mercy show, 

Li vile things noble breath infusing ; 

Then waken into sound divine 
The very pavement of Thy shrine, 
Till we, like Heaven's star-sprinkled floorj 
Faintly give back what we adore : 
Childlike though the voices be, 

And untunable the parts, 
Thou wilt own the minstrelsy. 

If it flow from childlike hearts. 
7 




oiiiiap Before €a$tet. 

Doubtless Thou art our Father, though Abraham be ignorant 
of us, and Israel acknowledge us not. — Isaiah Ixiii. 16. 

='^^gATHER to me Thou art and Mother 
^^ dear, 

" And Brother too, kind Husband of my 
heart " — 
So speaks Andromache ^ in boding fear, 

Ere from her last embrace her hero part — 
So evermore, by Faith's undying glow, 
We own the Crucified in weal or woe. 

Stransre to our ears the church-bells of our 
home. 
The fragrance of our old paternal fields 
May be forgotten ; and the time may come 
When the babe's kiss no sense of pleasure 
yields 
E'en to the doting mother : but Thine own 
Thou never canst forget, nor leave alone. 

There are who sigh that no fond heart is theirs, 
None loves them best — vain and selfish 
sigh ! 

Out of the bosom of His love He spares — 
The Father spares the Son, for thee to die : 

1 Iliad vi. 429. 



MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 99 

For thee He died — for thee He lives again : 
O'er thee He watches in His boundless reign. 

Thou art as much His care, as if beside 

Nor man nor angel liv'd in Heaven or earth : 

Thus sunbeams pour alike their glorious tide 
To light up worlds, or wake an insect's mirth 

They shine and shine with unexhausted store — • 

Thou art thy Saviour's darling — seek no more. 

On thee and thine, thy warfare and thine end, 
E'en in His hour of agony He thought. 

When, ere the final pang His soul should rend. 
The ransom'd spirits one by one were brought 

To His mind's eye — two silent nights and days ^ 

In calmness for His far-seen hour He stays. 

Ye vaulted cells, where martyr'd seers of old 
Far in the rocky walls of Sion sleep, 

Green terraces and arched fountains cold, 
Where lies the cypress shade so still and deep, 

Dear sacred haunts of glory and of woe. 

Help us, one hour, to trace His musings high 
and low : 

One heart-ennobling hour ! It may not be : 
Th' unearthly thoughts have pass'd from earth 
away, 

1 In Passion-week, from Tuesday evening to Thursday 
evening: during which time Scripture seems to be nearly 
silent concerning our Saviour's proceedings. 



100 MONDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

And fast as evening sunbeams from the sea 

Thy footsteps all in Sion's deep decay- 
Were blotted from the holy gromid : yet dear 
Is every stone of hers ; for Thou wast surely 
here. 

There is a spot within this sacred dale 

That felt Thee kneeling — touch'd Thy pros- 
trate brow : 

One Angel knows it. O might prayer avail 
To win that knowledge ! sure each holy vow 

Less quickly from th' unstable soul would fade, 

Offer'd where Christ in agony was laid. 

Might tear of ours once mingle with the blood 
That from His aching brow by moonlight fell, 

Over the mournful joy our thoughts would brood, 
Till they had fram'd within a guardian spell 

To chase repining fancies, as they rise. 

Like birds of evil wing, to mar our sacrifice. 

So dreams the heart self-flattering, fondly 

dreams ; — 
Else wherefore, when the bitter waves o'er- 

flow, 
Miss we the light, Gethsemane, that streams 
From thy dear name, where in His page of 

woe 
It shines, a pale kind star in winter's sky ? 
Who vainly reads it there, in vain had seen Him 

die. 




€ue^i5ap Before <£a^ttu 

Tliey gave Him to drink wine mingled with myrrh : but He re' 
ceived it not. — St. Makk xv. 23. 

ILL high the bowl, and spice it well, 
and pour 
The dews oblivious : for the Cross is 
sharp, 
The Cross is sharp, and He 
Is tenderer than a lamb. 

" He wept by Lazarus' grave — how will He bear 
This bed of anguish ? and his pale weak fomi 

Is worn with many a watch 

Of sorrow and unrest. 

" His sweat last night was as great drops of blood. 
And the sad burden press'd Him so to earth. 

The very torturers paus'd 

To help Him on His way. 

" Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense 
With medicin'd sleep." — O awful in Thy woe ! 

The parching thirst of death 

Is on Thee, and Thou triest 

The slumb'rous potion bland, and wilt not drink j 
Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man 

With suicidal hand 

Putting his solace by : 



102 TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

But as at first Thine all-pervading look 
Saw from Thy Father's bosom to th' abyss, 

Measuring in calm presage 

The infinite descent ; 

So to the end, though now of mortal pangs 
Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory, awhile, 

With unaverted eye 

Thou meetest all the storm. 

Thou wilt feel all, that Thou mayst pity all ; 
And rather wouldst Thou wrestle with strong 
pain. 

Than overcloud Thy soul, 

So clear in agony. 

Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time. 
O most entire and perfect sacrifice, 

Renew'd in every pulse 

That on the tedious Cross 

Told the long hours of death, as, one by one, 
The life-strings of that tender heart gave way : 

E'en sinners, taught by Thee, 

Look Sorrow in the face. 

And bid her freely welcome, unbeguil'd 

By false kind solaces, and spells of earth : — 

And yet not all unsooth'd : 

For when was Joy so dear, 



TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 103 

As tiie deep calm that breatli'd " Father, forgive^^ 
Or, " Be with Me in Paradise to-day ? " 

And, though the strife be sore, 

Yet in His parting breath 

Love masters Agony ; the soul that seem'd 
Forsaken, feels her present God again. 

And in her Father's arms 

Contented dies away. 




31E)etine^bap Before cSa^ter* 

Say'mg, Father, if Thou he willing, remove this cup from 3Ie 
nevertheless not My vnll, hut Thine, be done. — St. Lukb 
xxii. 42. 

LORD my God, do Thou Thy holy 

I will lie still — 
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm. 

And break the charm, 
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, 

In perfect rest. 

Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile 

With thy false smile : 
I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways ; 

Be silent, Praise, 
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all 

That hear thy call. 

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure, 
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure. 
Though dearest hopes are faithless found, 
And dearest hearts are bursting round. 
Come, Resignation, spirit meek. 
And let me kiss thy placid cheek, 
And read in thy pale eye serene 
Their blessing, who by faith can wean 
Their hearts from sense, and learn to love 
God only, and the joys above. 



WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 105 

They say, who know the life divine, 

And upward gaze with eagle eyne, 

That by each golden crown on high,^ 

Rich with celestial jewelry, 

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set, 

There hangs a radiant coronet. 

All gemm'd with pure and living light, 

Too dazzling for a sinner's sight, 

Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them 

Who seek the martyr's diadem. 

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire, 

Must win their way through blood and fire. 

The writhings of a wounded heart 

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart. 

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining, 

In Desolation unrepining. 

Without a hope on earth to find 

A mirror in an answering mind, 

Meek souls there are, who little dream 

Their daily strife an Angel's theme. 

Or that the rod they take so calm 

Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. 

And there are souls that seem to dwell 
Above this earth — so rich a spell 

1 ...... " that little coronet or special reward which God 

hath prepared (extraordinary and besides the great Crown of 
all faithful souls) for those 'who have not defiled themselves 
with women, but follow the (virgin) Lamb for ever.' " — Bp, 
Taylor, Holy Living, ch. xi. sect. 3. 



106 WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

Floats round their steps, where'er they move 

From hopes fulfiU'd and mutual love. 

Such, if on high their thoughts are set, 

Nor in the stream the source forget. 

If prompt to quit the bliss they know, 

Following the Lamb where'er He go, 

By purest pleasures unbeguil'd 

To idolize or wife or child ; 

Such wedded souls our God shall own 

For faultless virgins round His throne. 

Thus everywhere we find our suffering God, 

And where He trod 
May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary 

Uplifted high 
Beams on the martyr host, a beacon-light 

In open fight. 

To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart 

He doth impart 
The virtue of His midnight agony. 

When none was nigh. 
Save God and one good Angel, to assuage 

The tempest's rage. 

]Mortal ! if life smile on thee, and thou find 

All to thy mind. 
Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell de- 
scend 

Thee to befriend : 



WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER. 107 

So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call, 
Thy best, thine all. 

« Father ! not My will, but Thine be done " — 

So spake the Son. 
Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise 

Of griefs and joys ; 
That we may cling forever to Thy breast 

In perfect rest ! 




€§ur^&ap Before <^a^ttt. 

At the beginning of thy supplications the commandment came 
forth, and I am come to show thee ; for thou art greatly be- 
loved: therefore understand the matter, and consider the. 
vision. — Daniel ix. 23. 

HOLY mountain of my God, 
jj How do thy towers in ruin lie, 

How art thou riven and strewn abroad, 
Under the rude and wasteful sky ! " 
'T was thus upon his fasting-day 
The " Man of Loves " was fain to pray, 
His lattice open ^ toward his darling west. 
Mourning the ruin'd home he still must love the 
best. 

Oh ! for a love like Daniel's now, 

To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer 
For God's new Israel, sunk as low. 

Yet flourishing to sight as fair. 
As Sion in her height of pride. 
With queens for handmaids at her side, 
With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high, 
And compass'd with the world's too tempting 
blazonry. 

'T is true, nor winter stays thy growth. 
Nor torrid summer's sickly smile ; 

1 Daniel vi. 10. 



THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER. 109 

The flashing billows of the south 
Break not upon so lone an isle, 
But thou, rich vine, art grafted there, 
The fruit of death or life to bear. 
Yielding a surer witness every day, 
To thine Almighty Author and His steadfast 
sway. 

Oh ! grief to think, that grapes of gall 

Should cluster round thine healthiest shoot I 
God's herald prove a heartless thrall. 

Who, if he dar'd, would fain be mute ! 
E'en such is this bad world we see. 
Which self-condemn'd in owning Thee, 
Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take. 
For very pride, and her high-boasted Eeason*s 
sake. 

What do we then ? if far and wide 

Men kneel to Christ, the pure and meek, 
Yet rage with passion, swell with pride, 

Have we not still our faith to seek ? 
Nay — but in steadfast humbleness 
Kneel on to Him, who loves to bless 
The prayer that waits for Him ; and trembling 
strive 
To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast 
alive. 

Dark frown'd the future e'en on him, 
The lovinsf and belovf>d Seer, 



1 1 THUJRSDA Y BEF ORE EAS TER. 

What time he saw, through shadows dim, 

The boundary of th' eternal year ; 
He only of the sons of men 
Nam'd to be heir of glory then.^ 
Else had it bruis'd too sore his tender heart 
To see God's ransom'd world in wrath and flame 
depart. 

Then look do more : or closer watch 

Thy course in Earth's bewildering ways, 
For every glimpse thine eye can catch 

Of what shall be in those dread days : 
So when th' Archangel's word is spoken, 
And Death's deep trance forever broken, 
In mercy thou mayst feel the heavenly hand, 
And in thy lot unharm'd before thy Saviour 
stand.^ 

1 Daniel xii. 13. See Bp. Ken's Sermon on the character 
of Daniel. 

2 Thou shalt rest, and stand m thy lot at the end of the 
days. — Daniel xii. 13. 




He is despised and rejected of men. — Isaiah liii. 3. 

;S it not strange, the darkest hour 
That ever dawn'd on sinful earth 
Should touch the heart with softer 
power 
For comfort, than an angel's mirth ? 
That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn 
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn ? 

Sooner than where the Easter sun 

Shines glorious on yon open grave, 
And to and fro the tidings run, 

" Who died to heal, is ris'n to save ? " 
Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends 
The very Comforter in light and love descends ? 

Yet so it is : for duly there 

The bitter herbs of earth are set, 
Till temper'd by the Saviour's prayer, 
And with the Saviour's life-blood wet, 
They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm 
Soft as imprison'd martyr's death-bed calm. 

All turn to sweet — but most of all 
That bitterest to the lip of pride, 
When hopes presumptuous fade and fall 



112 GOOD-FRIDAY. 

Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried, 
Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear 
When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near. 

Then like a long-forgotten strain 

Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn 
What sunshine hours had taugrht in vain 
Of Jesus suffering shame and scorn, 
As in all lowly hearts He suffers still, 
While we triumphant ride and have the world at 
will. 

His pierced hands in vain would hide 

His face from rude reproachful gaze, 
His ears are open to abide 

The wildest storm the tongue can raise. 
He who with one rough word,^ some early day. 
Their idol world and them shall sweep for aye 
away. 

But we by Fancy may assuage 

The festering sore by Fancy made, 
Down in some lonely hermitage 
Like wounded pilgrims safely laid, 
Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distress'd, 
That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest. 

! shame beyond the bitterest thought 
That evil spirit ever fram'd, 

1 Wisdom of Solomon xii. 9- 



1 
■i 

JL 



GOOD-FRIDAY. 113 

That sinners know what Jesus wroupfht. 
Yet feel their haughty hearts untam'd — 
That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross, 
Should wince and fret at this world's little loss. 

Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry, 

Let not Thy blood on earth be spent — 
Low, at Thy feet I fainting lie, 

Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent, 
Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes 
"Wait like the parched* earth on April skies. 

Wash me, and dry these bitter tears, 

O let my heart no further roam, 
'T is Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears, 
Long since — O call Thy wanderer home ; 
To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side, 
Wliere only broken hearts their sin and shame 
may hide. 




As for thee also, by the blood of thy covenant I have sent forth 
thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water. — Zech. 
ix.ll. 

[T length the worst is o'er, and Thou art 
laid 
Deep in Thy darksome bed ; 
All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone 

Thy sacred form is gone ; 
Around those lips where power and mercy 
hung, 
The dews of death have clung ; 
The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around, 
Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters 
wound. 

Sleep'st Thou indeed ? or is Thy spirit fled. 

At large among the dead ? 
Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice 

Wake Abraham to rejoice. 
Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls 

The thronging band of souls ; 
That, as Thy blood won earth. Thine agony 
Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sorrow 
free. 



EASTER EVE. 115 

Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we 
know, 
Seen at Thy side in woe,^ 
"Waits on Thy triumph — even as all the blest 

With him and Thee shall rest. 
Each on his cross, by Thee we hang awhile, 

Watching Thy patient smile, 
Till we have learn'd to say, " 'Tis justly done, 
Only in glory. Lord, Thy sinful servant own." 

Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower 

To rest one little hour. 
Till Thine elect are number'd, and the grave 

Call Thee to come and save : 
Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend. 

Again with earth to blend. 
Earth all refin'd with bright supernal fires, 
Tinctur'd with holy blood, and wing'd with pure 
desires. 

Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thine 

Along the glorious line. 
Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet 

We '11 hold communion sweet. 
Know them by look and voice, and thank them 
all 

For helping us in thrall. 
For words of hope, and bright examples given 

1 St. Luke xxiii. 43. 



116 EASTER EVE. 

To show through moonless skies that there is 
light in Heaven. 

come that day, when in this restless heart 

Earth shall resign her part, 
When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall 
rest, 
My soul with Thee be blest ! 
But stay, presumptuous — Christ with thee 
abides 
In the rock's dreary sides : 
He from the stone will wring celestial dew 
If but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and 
true. 

When tears are spent, and thou art left alone 

With ghosts of blessings gone, 
Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid 

In Jesus' burial shade ; 
Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call 

Out of the rocky wall 
The fount of holy blood ; and lift on high 
Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and 
dry. 

Prisoner of Hope thou art* — look up and 
sing 
In hope of promis'd spring. 

1 Turn you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope. — 
Zechariah ix. 12. 



EASTER EVE. 117 

As in the pit his father's darling layi 

Beside the desert way, 
And knew not how, but knew his God would 
save 
E'en from that living grave. 
So, buried with our Lord, we '11 close our eyes 
To the decaying world, till Angels bid us rise. 

1 They took Mm, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was 
empty, there was no water in it. —Genesis xxxvii. 24. 





And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the 
earth, they said unto them. Why seek ye the living among the 
dead f -He is not here, but is risen. — St. Luke xxiv. 5, 6. 

jH ! day of days ! shall hearts set free 
Jl No " minstrel rapture " find for thee ? 
Thou art the Sun of other days, 
They shine by giving back thy rays : 

Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere 
Thou shedd'st thy light on all the year ; 
Sundays by thee more glorious break, 
An Easter Day in every week : 

A.nd week-days, following in their train. 
The fulness of thy blessing gain, 
Till all, both resting and employ. 
Be one Lord's day of holy joy. 

Then wake, my soul, to high desires. 
And earlier light thine altar fires : 
The World some hours is on her way, 
Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day : 



EASTER DAT. 119 

Or, if she think, it is in scorn: 
The vernal light of Easter morn 
To her dark gaze no brighter seems 
Than Reason's or the Law's pale beams. 

" Where is your Lord ? " she scornful asks : 
" Where is His hire ? we know His tasks ; 
Sons of a King ye boast to be ; 
Let us your crowns and treasures see." 

We in the words of Truth reply, 
(An angel brought them from the sky,) 
** Our crown, our treasure is not here, 
' Tis stor'd above the highest sphere : 

" Methinks your wisdom guides amiss, 
To seek on earth a Christian's bliss ; 
We watch not now the lifeless stone ; 
Our only Lord is risen and gone." 

Yet e'en the lifeless stone is dear 
For thoughts of Him who late lay here ; 
And the base world, now Christ hath died, 
Ennobled is and glorified. 

No more a charnel-house, to fence 
The relics of lost innocence, 
A vault of ruin and decay ; — 
Th' imprisoning stone is roU'd away : 



120 EASTER DAY. 

' T is now a cell, where angels use 
To come and go with heavenly news, 
And in the ears of mourners say, 
" Come, see the place where Jesus lay : " 

'T is now a fane, where Love can find 
Christ everywhere embalm'd and shrin'd ; 
Aye gathering up memorials sweet. 
Where'er she sets her duteous feet. 

Oh ! joy to Mary first allow'd, 
"When rous'd from weeping o'er His shroud, 
By His own calm, soul-soothing tone. 
Breathing her name, as still His own ! 

Joy to the faithful Three renew'd, 
As their glad errand they pursued ! 
Happy, who so Christ's word convey, 
That He may meet them on their way. 

So is it still : to holy tears. 
In lonely hours, Christ risen appears : 
In social hours, who Christ would see, 
Must turn all tasks to Charity. 




a^ontrap in €a$ttt Wtth. 

Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons : but 
in every nation he that feareth Eim, and worheth righteous- 
ness, is accepted with Him. — Acts x. 34, 35. 

u^ and watch the new-born rill 
Just trickling from its mossy bed, 
Streaking the heath-clad hill 
With a bright emerald thread. 

Canst thou her bold career foretell, 
What rocks she shall o'erleap or rend, 
How far in Ocean's swell 

Her freshening billows send ? 

Perchance that little brook shall flow 
The bulwark of some mighty realm, 
Bear navies to and fro 

With monarchs at their helm. 

Or canst thou guess, how far away 
Some sister nymph, beside her urn 
Reclining night and day, 

'Mid reeds and mountain fern. 

Nurses her store, with thine to blend 
When many a moor and glen are past, 
Then in the wide sea end 
Their spotless lives at last ? 



122 MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 

E'en so, the course of prayer who knows ? 
It springs in silence where it will, 
Springs out of sight, and flows 
At first a lonely rill : 

But streams shall meet it by and by 
From thousand sympathetic hearts, 
Together swelling high 
Their chant of many parts. 

Unheard by all but angel ears 
The good Cornelius knelt alone, 
Nor dream'd his prayers and tears 
Would help a world undone. 

The while upon his terrac'd roof 
The lov'd Apostle to his Lord 
In silent thought aloof 
For heavenly vision soar'd. 

Far o'er the glowing western main 
His wistful brow was upward rais'd, 
Where, like an angel's train. 
The burnish'd water blaz'd. 

The saint beside the ocean pray'd, 
The soldier in his chosen bower, 
Where all his eye survey'd 
Seem'd sacred in that hour. 



MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 123 

To each unknown his brother's prayer, 
Yet brethren true in dearest love 
Were they — and now they share 
Fraternal joys above. 

There daily through Christ's open gate 
They see the Gentile spirits press, 
Brightening their high estate 
With dearer happiness. 

What civic wreath for comrades sav'd 
Shone ever with such deathless gleam, 
Or when did perils brav'd 
So sweet to veterans seem ? 




€ue^t!ap in €a^ttt Wtth. 

And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and 
great joy ; and did run to bring Eis disciples word. — St. 
Matthew xxviii. 8. 

TO THE SNOW-DROP. 

HOU first-born of the year's delight, 
Pride of the dewy glade, 
In vernal green and virgin white. 
Thy vestal robes, array'd : 

'T is not because thy drooping form 

Sinks graceful on its nest. 
When chilly shades from gathering storm 

Affright thy tender breast ; 

Nor for yon river islet wild 

Beneath the willow spray, 
Where, like the ringlets of a child. 

Thou weaVst thy circle gay ; 

'T is not for these I love thee dear — 

Thy shy averted smiles 
To Fancy bode a joyous year, 

One of Life's fairy isles. 

They tmnkle to the wintry moon, 
And cheer th' ungenial day, 



TUESDAT IN EASTER WEEK. 125 

And tell us, all will glisten soon 
As green and bright as they. 

Is there a heart, that loves the spring, 

Their witness can refuse ? 
Yet mortals doubt, when angels bring 

From Heaven their Easter news : 

When holy maids and matrons speak 

Of Christ's forsaken bed, 
And voices, that forbid to seek 

The living 'mid the dead, 

And when they say, "Turn, wandering heart, 

Thy Lord is ris'n indeed. 
Let Pleasure go, put Care apart. 

And to His presence speed ; " 

"We smile in scorn : and yet we know 

They early sought the tomb. 
Their hearts, that now so freshly glow, 

Lost in desponding gloom. 

They who have sought, nor hope to find, 

Wear not so bright a glance : 
They, who have won their earthly mind. 

Less reverently advance. 

But where, in gentle spirits, fear 
And joy so duly meet. 



126 TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK. 

These sure have seen the angels near, 
And kiss'd the Saviour's feet. 

Nor let the Pastor's thankful eye 
Their faltering tale disdain, 
. As on their lowly couch they lie. 
Prisoners of want and pain. 

guide us, when our faithless hearts 
From Thee would start aloof, 

Where Patience her sweet skill imparts 
Beneath some cottage roof: 

Revive our dying fires, to burn 
High as her anthems soar. 

And of our scholars let us learn 
Our own forgotten lore. 




fxt^t dSunftap after oEa^ter* 

Seemeth it but a small thing unto you, that the God of Israel hath 
separated you from the congregation of Israel, to hnng you 
near to Himself 1 — Numbers xvi. 9. 

iIRST Father of the holy seed, 
If yet, invok'd in hour of need. 
Thou count me for Thine own, 
Not quite an outcast if I prove, 
(Thou joy'st in miracles of love,) 
Hear, from Thy mercy-throne ! 

Upon Thine altar's horn of gold 
Help me to lay my trembling hold. 

Though stain'd with Christian gore ; — 
The blood of souls by Thee redeem'd, 
But, while I rov'd or idly dream'd, 

Lost to be found no more. 

For oft, when summer leaves were bright, 
And every flower was bath'd in light, 

In sunshine moments past. 
My wilful heart would burst away 
From where the holy shadow lay, 

Where Heaven my lot had cast. 

I thought it scorn with Thee to dweU, 
A Hermit in a silent cell, 



128 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

While, gayly sweeping by, 
Wild Fancy blew his bugle strain, 
And marshall'd all his gallant train 

In the world's wondering eye. 

I would have join'd him — but as oft 
Thy whisper'd warnings, kind and soft. 

My better soul confess'd. 
" My servant, let the world alone — 
Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne 

Be tranquil and be blest. 

" Seems it to thee a niggard hand 

That nearest Heaven has bade thee stand, 

The ark to touch and bear. 
With incense of pure heart's desire 
To heap the censer's sacred fire, 

The snow-white Ephod wear ? " 

Why should we crave the worldling's wreath, 
On whom the Saviour deign'd to breathe. 

To whom His keys were given. 
Who lead the choir where angels meet, 
With angels' food our brethren greet, 

And pour the drink of Heaven ? 

When sorrow all our heart would ask, 
We need not shun our daily task. 

And hide ourselves for calm ; 
The herbs we seek to heal our woe 



FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 129 

Familiar by our pathway grow, 
Our common air is balm. 

Around each pure domestic shrine 
Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine, 

Our hearths are altars all ; 
The prayers of hungry souls and poor, 
Like armed angels at the door, 

Our unseen foes appall. 

Alms all around and hymns within — 
What evil eye can entrance win 

Where guards like these abound ? 
If chance some heedless heart should roam. 
Sure, thought of these will lure it home 

Ere lost in Folly's round. 

joys, that sweetest in decay. 
Fall not, like wither'd leaves, away, 

But with the silent breath 
Of violets drooping one by one, 
Soon as their fragrant task is done, 

Are wafted high in death ! 




He hath said, which heard the words of God, arid Tcneio the knowl- 
edge of the Most High, which saio the vision of the Almighty, 
falling into a trance, but having his eyes open: I shall see 
Him, but not noio : I shall behold Him, but not nigh : there 
shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out 
of Israel, and shall smite the corners of Moab, and destroy 
all the children of Sheth. — Numbers xxiv. 16, 17. 

FOE, a sculptor's hand, 

That thou might'st take thy stand, 

Thy wild hair floating on the eastern 

breeze, 
Thy tranc'd yet open gaze 
Fix'd on the desert haze. 
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant 
sees. 

In outline dim and vast 

Their fearful shadows cast 
The giant forms of empires on their way 

To ruin : one by one 

They tower and they are gone. 
Yet in the Prophet's soul the dreams of avarice 
stay. 

No sun or star so bright 
In all the world of light 
That they should draw to Heaven his downward 
eye: 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 131 

He hears th' Almighty's word, 
He sees the angel's sword, 
Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure 
lie. 

Lo ! from yon argent field. 

To him and us reveal'd, 
One gentle Star glides down, on earth to dwell. 

Chain'd as they are below 

Our eyes may see it glow, 
And as it mounts again, may track its brightness 
well. 

To him it glar'd afar, 

A token of wild war. 
The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath : 

But close to us it gleams. 

Its soothing lustre streams 
Around our home's green walls, and on our 
church-way path. 

We in the tents abide 

Which he at distance eyed 
Like goodly cedars by the waters spread, 

While seven red altar-fires 

Eose up in wavy spires, 
Where on the mount he watch'd his sorceries 
dark and dread. 

He watch'd till morning's ray 
On lake and meadow lay, 



132 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

And willow-shaded streams, that silent sweep 
Around the banner'd lines, 
Where by their several signs 

,The desert-wearied tribes in sight of Canaan 
sleep. 

He watch'd till knowledge came 

Upon his soul like flame, 
Not of those magic fires at random caught : 

But true prophetic light 

Flash'd o'er him, high and bright, 
Flash'd once, and died away, and left his dark- 
en'd thought. 

And can he choose but fear, 
Who feels his God so near, 
That when he fain would curse, his powerless 
tongue 
In blessing only moves ? — 
Alas ! the world he loves 
Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath 
flung. 

Sceptre and Star divine. 

Who in Thine inmost shrine 
Hast ma(ie us worshippers, O claim Thine own ; 

More than Thy seers we know — 

teach our love to grow 
Up to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou 
hast sown. 




€f)n:ii dSuniap after €a^tar* 

A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour 
is come : but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she re- 
member eth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born 
into the world. — St. John xvi. 21. 

'ELL may I guess and feel 

Why Autumn should be sad ; 
But vernal airs should sorrow heal, 
Spring should be gay and glad : 
Yet as along this violet bank I rove, 

The languid sweetness seems to choke my 
breath, 
I sit me down beside the hazel grove. 
And sigh, and half could wish my weariness 
were death. 

Like a bright veering cloud 
Gray blossoms twinkle there, 
Warbles around a busy crowd 
Of larks in purest air. 
Shame on the heart that dreams of blessings 
gone, 
Or wakes the spectral forms of woe and 
crime, 
When natui-e sings of joy and hope alone, 
Reading her cheerful lesson in her own sweet 
time. 



134 TEIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Nor let the proud heart say, 
In her self-torturing hour 
The travail pangs must have their way, 
The aching brow must lower. 
To us long since the glorious Child is born, 
Our throes should be forgot, or only seem 
Like a sad vision told for joy at morn. 
For joy that we have wak'd and found it but 
a dream. 

Mysterious to all thought 
A mother's prime of bliss, 
When to her eager lips is brought 
Her infant's thrilling kiss. 
O never shall it set, the sacred light 

Which dawns that moment on her tender 
gaze. 
In the eternal distance blending bright 
Her darling's hope and hers, for love and joy and 
praise. 

No need for her to weep 

Like Thracian wives of yore, 
Save when in rapture still and deep 
Her thankful heart runs o'er. 
They mourn'd to trust their treasure on the 
main, 
Sure of the storm, unknowing of their guide : 
Welcome to her the peril and the pain, 
For well she knows the home where they may 
safely hide. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 135 

She joys that one is born 
Into a world forgiven, 
Her Father's household to adorn, 
And dwell with her in Heaven. 
So have I seen, in Spring's bewitching hour. 

When the glad Earth is offering all her best. 

Some gentle maid bend o'er a cherish'd flower, 

And wish it worthier on a Parent's heart to rest. 




f outtf) <i§untiap after <£a^ter* 

Nevertheless I tell you the truth ; It is expedient for you that I 
go away : for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come 
unto you : but if I depart, I will send Him unto you. 

St. John xvi. 7. 

Y Saviour, can it ever be 
That I should gain by losing Thee ? 
The watchful mother tarries nigh 
Though sleep have clos'd her infant's eye ; 
For should he wake, and find her gone, 
She knows she could not bear his moan. 
But I am weaker than a child. 

And Thou art more than mother dear ; 
Without Thee Heaven were but a wild : 
How can I live without Thee here ! 

" 'T is good for you, that I should go, 
You lingering yet awhile below ; " — 
'T is Thine own gracious promise, Lord ! 
Thy saints have prov'd the faithful word, 
When Heaven's bright boundless avenue 
Far open'd on their eager view. 
And homeward to Thy Father's throne, 

Still lessening, brightening on their sight, 
Thy shadowy car went soaring on ; 

They track'd Thee up th' abyss of light. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 137 

Thou bidd'st rejoice ; they dare not mourn, 
But to their home in gladness turn, 
Their home and God's, that favor'd place. 
Where still He shines on Abraham's race. 
In prayers and blessings there to wait 
Like suppliants at their Monarch's gate, 
Who bent with bounty rare to aid 

The splendors of His crowning day. 
Keeps back awhile His largess, made 

More welcome for that brief delay : 

In doubt they wait, but not unblest ; 
They doubt not of their Master's rest. 
Nor of the gracious will of Heaven — 
Who gave His Son, sure all has given — 
But in ecstatic awe they muse 
What course the genial stream may choose, 
And far and wide their fancies rove. 

And to their height of wonder strain. 
What secret miracle of love 

Should make their Saviour's going gain. 

The days of hope and prayer are past, 
The day of comfort dawns at last, 
The everlasting gates again 
Roll back, and, lo ! a royal train — 
From the far depth of light once more 
The floods of glory earthward pour : 
They part like shower-drops in mid air, 
But ne'er so soft fell noon-tide shower. 



138 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Nor ev'ning rainbow gleam'd so fair 
To weary swains in parched bower. 

Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame 

Through cloud and breeze unwavering came, 

And darted to its place of rest 

On some meek brow of Jesus blest. 

Nor fades it yet, that living gleam, 

And still those lambent lightnings stream ; 

Where'er the Lord is, there are they ; 

In every heart that gives them room, 
They light His altar every day. 

Zeal to inflame, and vice consume. 

Soft as the plumes of Jesus' Dove 
They nurse the soul to heavenly love ; 
The sti'uggling spark of good within, 
Just smother'd in the stiife of sin. 
They quicken to a timely glow. 
The pure flame spreading high and low. 
Said I, that prayer and hope were o'er ? 

Nay, blessed Spirit ! but by Thee 
The Church's prayer finds wings to soar, 

The Church's hope finds eyes to see. 

Then, fainting soul, arise and sing ; 
Mount, but be sober on the wing ; 
Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer, 
Be sober, for thou art not there ; 
Till Death the weary spirit free. 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 139 

Thy God hath said, 'T is good for thee 
To walk by faith and not by sight : 

Take it on trust a little while ; 
Soon shalt thou read the mystery right 

In the full sunshine of His smile. 

Or if thou yet more knowledge crave. 
Ask thine own heart, that willing slave 
To all that works thee woe or harm : 
Shouldst thou not need some mighty charm 
To win thee to thy Saviour's side, 
Though He had deign'd with thee to bide ? 
The Spirit must stir the darkling deep, 

The Dove must settle on the Cross, 
Else we should all sin on or sleep 

With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss. 




f iftJ) J>untiap after €ei$ttt. 

ROGATION SUNDAY. 

And the Lord was very angry with Aaron to hone destroyed 
him : and I prayed for Aaron also the same time. 

Deut. ix. 20. 

|0W is there solemn pause in earth and 
heaven ; 
The Conqueror now 
His bonds hath riven, 
And Angels wonder why He stays below : 
Yet hath not man his lesson learn'd, 
How endless love should be return'd. 

Deep is the silence as of summer noon, 
When a soft shower 
Will trickle soon, 
A gracious rain, freshening the weary bower — 
O sweetly then far off is heard 
The clear note of some lonely bird. 

So let Thy turtle-dove's sad call arise 
In doubt and fear 
Through darkening skies, 
And pierce, O Lord, Thy justly-sealed ear, 
Where on the house-top,^ all night long. 
She trills her widow'd, faltering song. 

1 Psalm cii. 7. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 141 

Teach her to know and love her hour of prayer, 
And evermore, 
As faith grows rare, 
Unlock her heart, and oiFer all its store 
In holier love and humbler vows, 
As suits a lost returning spouse. 

Not as at first,^ but with intenser cry, 
Upon the mount 
She now must lie, 
Till Thy dear love to blot the sad account 
Of her rebellious race be won, 
Pitying the mother in the son. 

But chiefly (for she knows Thee anger'd worst 
By holiest things 
Profan'd and curst), 
Chiefly for Aaron's seed she spreads her wings. 
If but one leaf she may from Thee 
Win of the reconciling tree. 

For what shall heal, when holy water banes ? 
Or who may guide 
O'er desert plains 
Thy lov'd yet sinful people wandering wide, 
K Aaron's hand unshrinking mould ^ 
An idol form of earthly gold ? 

1 I fell down before the Lord forty days and forty nights, 
as I fell down at the first. — Deut. ix. 25. 

2 Exodus xxxii. 4, 



142 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 

Therefore her tears are' bitter, and as deep 
Her boding sigh, 
As, while men sleep, 
Sad-hearted mothers heave, that wakeful lie, 
To muse upon some darling child 
Roaming in youth's uncertain wild. 

Therefore on fearful dreams her inward sight 
Is fain to dwell — 
What lurid light 
Shall the last darkness of the world dispel. 
The Mediator in His wrath 
Descending down the lightning's path. 

Yet, yet awhile, offended Saviour, pause, 
In act to break ^ 
Thine outrag'd laws, 
O spare Thy rebels for Thine own dear sake : 
Withdraw Thine hand, nor dash to earth 
The covenant of our second birth. 

'T is forfeit like the first — we own it all — 
Yet for love's sake 
Let it not fall ; 
But at Thy touch let veiled hearts awake. 
That nearest to Thine altar lie. 
Yet least of holy things descry. 

1 Exodus xxxii. 19. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 143 

Teacher of teachers! Priest of priests! from 
Thee 
The sweet strong prayer 
Must rise, to free 
First Levi, then all Israel, from the snare. 
Thou art our Moses out of sight — 
Speak for us, or we perish quite. 




Why stand ye gazing up into Heaven f This same Jesus, which 
is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come in lihe manner 
as ye have seen Him go into Heaven. — Acts i. 11. 

OFT cloud, that while the breeze of May 
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch, 
Draw'st thy bright veil across the heav- 
enly way, 
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march : 

My soul is envious of mine eye, 
That it should soar and glide with thee so fast, 
The while my grovelling thoughts half buried 
lie, 
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste. 

Chains of my heart, avaunt I say — 
I will arise, and in the strength of love 

Pursue the bright track ere it fade away. 
My Saviour's pathway to His home above. 

Sure, when I reach the point where earth 
Melts into nothing from the uncumber'd sight, 
Heaven will o'ercome th' attraction of my 
birth, 
And I shall sink in yonder sea of light : 



AS CENSION DA Y. 1 45 

Till resting by th' incarnate Lord, 
Once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake, 
I mark Him, how by seraph hosts ador'd. 
He to earth's lowest cares is still awake. 

The sun and every vassal star, 
All space, beyond the soar of angel wings. 

Wait on His word : and yet He stays His car 
For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings. 

He listens to the silent tear 
For all the anthems of the boundless sky — 

And shall our dreams of music bar our ear 
To His soul-piercing voice forever nigh ? 

Nay, gracious Saviour — but as now 
Our thoughts have trac'd Thee to Thy glory- 
throne, 
So help us evermore with Thee to bow 
Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan. 

We must not stand to gaze too long, 
Though on unfolding Heaven our gaze we bend, 

Where lost behind the bright angelic throng 
We see Christ's entering triumph slow ascend. 

No fear but we shall soon behold. 
Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive. 

When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold 
Our wasted frames feel the true sun, and live. 
10 



146 ASCENSION DAY. 

Then shall we see Thee as Thou art, 
Forever fix'd in no unfruitful gaze, 

But such as lifts the new-created heart, 
Age after age, in worthier love and praise. 



^uniJap after ^^ceii^lait. 

As every man hath received Ihe gift, even so minister the sama 
one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. 
— 1 St. Peter iv. 10. 

^^^HE Earth that in her genial breast 
^M Makes for the down a kindly nest, 
©^ Where wafted by the warm south-west 

It floats at pleasure, 
Yields, thankful, of her very best, 

To nurse her treasure : 

True to her trust, tree, herb, or reed, 
She renders for each scatter'd seed. 
And to her Lord with duteous heed 

Gives large increase : 
Thus year by year she works unfeed, 

And will not cease. 

Woe worth these barren hearts of ours, 
Where Thou hast set celestial flowers, 
And water'd with more balmy showers 

Than e'er distill'd 
In Eden, on th' ambrosial bowers — 

Yet nought we yield. 

Largely Thou givest, gracious Lord, 
Largely Thy gifts should be restor'd ; 



148 SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION: 

Freely Thou givest, and Thy word 

Is, " Freely give."^ 
He only, who forgets to hoard, 

Has learned to live. 

Wisely Thou givest — all around 
Thine equal rays are resting found. 
Yet varying so on various ground 

They pierce and strike, 
That not two roseate cups are crown'd 

With dew alike : 

E'en so, in silence, likest Thee, 
Steals on soft-handed Charity, 
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free, 

By time and place. 
Till not a woe the bleak world see, 

But finds her grace : 

Eyes to the blind, and to the lame 
Feet, and to sinners wholesome blame, 
To starving bodies food and flame. 

By turns she brings ; 
To humbled souls, that sink for shame, 

Lends heaven-ward wings : 

Leads them the way our Saviour went, 
And shows Love's treasure yet unspent ; 

1 St. Matthew x. 8. 



SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION. 149 

As when th' unclouded heavens were rent 

Opening His road, 
Nor yet His Holy Spirit sent 

To our abode. 

Ten days th' eternal doors display'd 
Were wondering (so th' Almighty bade) 
AYhom love enthron'd would send, in aid 

Of souls that mourn, 
Left orphans in Earth's dreary shade 

As soon as born. 

Open they stand, that prayers in throngs 
May rise on high, and holy songs, 
Such incense as of right belongs 

To the true shrine, 
Where stands the Healer of all wrongs 

In light divine ; 

The golden censer in His hand, 
He offers hearts from every land. 
Tied to His own by gentlest band 

Of silent Love : 
About Him winged blessings stand 

In act to move. 

A little while, and they shall fleet 
From Heaven to Earth, attendants meet 
On the life-giving Paraclete 
Speeding His flight, 



150 S UN DA Y AF TER AS CENSION. 

With all that sacred is and sweet, 
On saints to light. 

Apostles, Prophets, Pastors, all 
Shall feel the shower of Mercy fall, 
And starting at th' Almighty's call. 

Give what He gave. 
Till their high deeds the world appall, 

And sinners save. 




And suddenly (here came a sound from Heaven as of a rushing 
mighty wind, and it filed all the house where they were sitting. 
And there appeared unto iJiem cloven tongues lihe as off re, 
and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filed with 
the Holy Ghost. — Acts ii. 2-4. 

^HEjST God of old came down from 
Heaven, 
In power and wrath He came ; 
Before His feet the clouds were riven, 
Half darkness and half flame : 

Around the trembling mountain's base 

The prostrate people lay ; 
A day of wrath, and not of grace ; 

A dim and dreadful day. 

But when He came the second time, 

He came in power and love, 
Softer than gale at morning prime 

Hover'd His holy Dove. 

The fires that rush'd on Sinai down 

In sudden torrents dread, 
Now gently light, a glorious crown, 

On every sainted head. 



152 WHITSUNDAY. 

Like arrows went those lightnings forth 
Wing'd with the sinner's doom, 

But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth 
Proclaiming life to come : 

And as on Israel's awe-struck ear 
The voice exceeding loud. 

The trump, that angels quake to hear, 
Thrill'd from the deep, dark cloud ; 

So, when the Spirit of our God 
Came down His flock to find, 

A voice from Heaven was heard abroad, 
A rushing, mighty wind. 

Nor doth the outward ear alone 
At that high warning start ; 

Conscience gives back th' appalling tone ; 
'T is echoed in the heart. 

It fills the Church of God ; it fiUs 

The sinful world around ; 
Only in stubborn hearts and wills 

No place for it is found. 

To other strains our souls are set : 

A giddy whirl of sin 
Fills ear and brain, and will not let 

Heaven's harmonies come in. 



WHITSUNDAY. 153 

Come Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Power, 

Open our ears to hear ; 
Let us not miss th' accepted hour ; 

Save, Lord, by Love or Fear. 




So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon (he face of 
the earth : and they left off to build the city. 

Genesis xi. 8. 

JINCE ail that is not Heaven must fade, 
Light be the hand of Ruin laid 
Upon the home I love : 
With lulling spell let soft Decay 
Steal on, and spare the giant sway, 
The crash of tower and grove. 

Far opening down some woodland deep 
In their own quiet glade should sleep 

The relics dear to thought, 
And wild-flower wreaths from side to side 
Their waving tracery hang, to hide 

What ruthless Time has wrought. 

Such are the visions green and sweet 
That o'er the wistful fancy fleet 

In Asia's sea-like plain, 
Where slowly, round his isles of sand, 
Euphrates through the lonely land 

Winds toward the pearly main. 



MONDAY IN WHITS UN- WEEK. 155 

Slumber is there, but not of rest ; 
There her forlorn and weary nest 

The famish'd hawk has found, 
The wild dog howls at fall of night, 
The serpent's rustling coils affright 

The traveller on his round. 

What shapeless form, half lost on high,^ 
Half seen against the evening sky, 

Seems like a ghost to glide. 
And watch, from Babel's crumbling heap, 
Where in her shadow, fast asleep, 

Lies fall'n imperial Pride ? 

With half-clos'd eye a lion there 
Is basking in his noontide lair, 

Or prowls in twilight gloom. 
The golden city's king he seems, 
Such as in old prophetic dreams ^ 

Sprang from rough ocean's womb. 

But where are now his eagle wings, 
That shelter'd erst a thousand kings, 

1 See Sir R. K. Porter's Travels, ii. 387. " In my second 
visit to Birs Nimrood, my party suddenly halted, having 
descried several dark objects moving along the summit of its 
hill, which they construed into dismounted Arabs on the look- 
out: I took out my glass to examine, and soon distinguished 
that the causes of oiir alarm were two or three majestic lions, 
taking the air upon the heights of the pyramid." 

2 Daniel vii. 4. 



156 MONDAY IN WEITSUN-WEEK. 

Hiding the glorious sky 
From half the nations, till they own 
No holier name, no mightier throne ? 

That vision is gone by. 

Quench'd is the golden statue's ray,^ 
The breath of heaven has blown away 

What toiling earth hath pil'd, 
Scattering wise heart and crafty hand, 
As breezes strew on ocean's sand 

The fabrics of a child. 

Divided thence through every age 
Thy rebels, Lord, their warfare wage, 

And hoarse and jarring all 
Mount up their heaven-assailing cries 
To Thy bright watchmen in the skies 

From Babel's shattered wall. 

Thrice only since, with blended might 
The nations on that haughty height 

Have met to scale the Heaven : 
Thrice only might a seraph's look 
A moment's shade of sadness brook — 

Such power to guilt was given. 

Now the fierce Bear and Leopard keen ^ 
Are perish'd as they ne'er had been, 

1 Daniel ii. and iii. 2 Daniel vii. 5, 6. 



MONDAY IN WHITS VN- WEEK. 157 

Oblivion is their home : 
Ambition's boldest dream and last 
Must melt before the clarion-blast 

That sounds the dirge of Rome. 

Heroes and Kings, obey the charm, 
Withdraw the proud high-reaching arm, 

There is an oath on high, 
That ne'er on brow of mortal birth 
Shall blend again the crowns of earth, 

Nor in according cry 

Her many voices mingling own 
One tyrant Lord, one idol throne : 

But to His triumph soon 
He shall descend, who rules above, 
And the pure language of His love ^ 

All tongues of men shall tune. 

Nor let Ambition heartless mourn ; 
When Babel's very ruins burn, 

Her high desires may breathe ; — 
O'ercome Thyself, and thou mayst share 
With Christ His Father's throne,^ and wear 

The world's imperial wreath. 

1 Then will I turn to the people a piire language, that they 
may all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve Him with 
one consent. — Zephaniah iii. 9. 

2 To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me in My 
throne. — Revelations iii. 21. 




€uc^&ap in J©|tit^mt^3©eefe* 

When He pvtteth forth His omi sheep, He goeth before them. 

St. John x. 4. 

(addressed to candidates for ordination.) 

ORD, in Thy field I work all day, 
I read, I teach, I warn, I pray, 
And yet these wilful wandering sheep 
Within Thy fold I cannot keep. 

" I journey, yet no step is won — 
Alas ! the weary course I run ! 
Like sailors shipwreck'd in their dreams, 
All powerless and benighted seems." 

What ? wearied out with half a life ? 
Scar'd with this smooth imbloody strife ? 
Think where thy coward hopes had flown 
Had Heaven held out the martyr's crown. 

How couldst thou hang upon the cross, 
To whom a weary hour is loss ? 
Or how the thorns and scourging brook, 
Who shrinkest from a scornful look ? 



\ 



TUESDA Y IN WEI TS UN- WEEK. 159 

Yet ere thy craven spirit faints, 
Hear thine own King, the King of Saints; 
Though thou wert toihng in the grave, 
'T is He can cheer thee. He can save. 

He is th' eternal mirror bright, 
Where Angels viev/ the Father's light. 
And yet in Him the simplest swain 
May read his homely lesson plain. 

Early to quit His home on earth. 
And claim His high celestial birth, 
Alone with His true Father found 
Within the temple's solemn round : — 

Yet in meek duty to abide 

For many a year at Mary's side, 

Nor heed, though restless spirits ask, 

" What, hath the Christ forgot His task ? " 

Conscious of Deity within. 

To bow before an heir of sin. 

With folded arms on humble breast. 

By His own servant wash'd and blest : — 

Then full of Heaven, the mystic Dove 
Hovering His gracious brow above, 
To shun the voice and eye of praise. 
And in the wild His trophies raise : — 



160 TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 

With hymns of angels in His ears, 
Back to His task of woe and tears, 
Unmurmuring through the world to roam 
With not a wish or thought at home : — 

All but Himself to heal and save. 

Till ripen'd for the cross and grave, 

He to His Father gently yield 

The breath that our redemption seal'd : — 

Then to unearthly life arise. 
Yet not at once to seek the skies, 
But glide awhile from saint to saint, 
Lest on our lonely way we faint ; 

And though the cloud by glimpses show 
How bright, in Heaven, the marks will glow 
Of the true cross, imprinted deep 
Both on the Shepherd and the sheep : — 

When out of sight, in heart and prayer 
Thy chosen people still to bear 
And from behind Thy glorious veil, 
Shed light that cannot change or fail : — 

This is Thy pastoral course, Lord, 
Till we be sav'd, and Thou ador'd ; — 
Thy course and ours — but who are they 
Who follow on the narrow way ? 



TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK. 161 

And yet of Thee from year to year 
The Church's solemn chant we hear, 
As from Thy cradle to Thy throne 
She swells her high heart-cheering tone. 

Listen, ye pure white-robed souls, 
Whom in her list she now enrolls, 
And gird ye for your high emprize 
By these her thrilling minstrelsies. 

And wheresoe'er in earth's wide field. 
Ye lift, for Him, the red-cross shield, 
Ee this your song, your joy and pride — 
" Our Champion went before and died." 
11 




If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye 
believe, if I tell you ofhea/venly things? — St. John iii. 12. 

RE ATOR, Saviour, strengthening Guide, 
Now on Thy mercy's ocean wide 
Far out of sight we seem to glide. 

Help us, each hour, with steadier eye 
To search the deepening mystery, 
The wonders of Thy sea and sky. 

The blessed angels look and long 
To praise Thee with a worthier song, 
And yet our silence does Thee wrong. 

Along the Church's central space 
The sacred weeks, with unfelt pace, 
Have borne us on from grace to grace. 

As travellers on some woodland height, 
When wintry suns are gleaming bright. 
Lose in arch'd glades their tangled sight ; — 

By glimpses such as dreamers love 
Through her gray veil the leafless grove 
Shows where the distant shadows rove ; — 



TRINITY SUNDAY. 163 

Such trembling joy the soul o'erawes 
As nearer to Thy shrine she draws : — 
And now before the choir we pause. 

The door is clos'd — but soft and deep 
Around the awful arches sweep 
Such airs as soothe a hermit's sleep. 

From each carv'd nook and fretted bend 

Cornice and gallery seem to send 

Tones that with seraph hymns might blend. 

Three solemn parts together twine 

In harmony's mysterious line ; 

Three solemn aisles approach the shrine : 

Yet all are One — together all, 

In thoughts that awe but not appall, 

Teach the adoring heart to fall. 

Within these walls each fluttering guest 
Is gently lur'd to one safe nest — 
"Without, 't is moaning and unrest. 

The busy world a thousand ways 

Is hurrying by, nor ever stays 

To catch a note of Thy dear praise, 

Why tarries not her chariot-wheel. 

That o'er her with no vain appeal 

One gust of heavenly song might steal ? 



164 TRINITY SUNDAY. 

Alas ! for her Thy opening flowers 
Unheeded breathe to summer showers, 
Unheard the music of Thy bowers. 

What echoes from the sacred dome 
The selfish spirit may o'ercome 
That will not hear of love or home ! 

The heart that scorn'd a father's care, 
How can it rise in filial prayer ? 
How an all-seeing Guardian bear ? 

Or how shall envious brethren own 
A Brother on th' eternal throne, 
Their Father's joy, their hope alone ? 

How shall Thy Spirit's gracious wile 
The sullen brow of gloom beguile. 
That frowns on sweet Affection's smile ? 

Eternal One, Almighty Trine ! 

(Since Thou art ours, and we are Thine, ) 

By all Thy love did once resign, 

By all the grace Thy heavens still hide, 
We pray Thee, keep us at Thy side, 
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide ! 




fit^t .^irnbap after ^rinitp* 

80 Joshua smote all ihe country, . . . and all their Icings : he left 
none remaining. — Joshua x. 40. 

HERE is the land with milk and honey 
flowing, 
The promise of our God, our fancy's 
theme ? 
Here over shatter'd walls dank weeds are grow- 
ing, 
And blood and fire have run in mingled 
stream ; 
Like oaks and cedars all around 
The giant corses strew the ground, 
And haughty Jericho's cloud-piercing wall 
Lies where it sank at Joshua's trumpet-call. 

These are not scenes for pastoral dance at even, 
For moonlight rovings in the fragrant glades, 
Soft slumbers in the open eye of Heaven, 
And all the listless joy of summer shades. 
We in the midst of ruins live, 
Which every hour dread warning give. 
Nor may our household vine or fig-tree hide 
The broken arches of old Canaan's pride. 



166 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

"Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting, 

The deep calm sky, the sunshine of the soul, 
Now Heaven and earth are to our bliss consenting, 
And all the Godhead joins to make us whole ? 
The triple crown of mercy now 
Is ready for the suppliant's brow, 
By the Almighty Three forever plann'd, 
And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' 
hand. 

" Now, Christians, hold your own — the land be- 
fore ye 
Is open — win your way, and take your rest/' 
So sounds our war-note ; but our path of glory 
By many a cloud is darken'd and unblest : 
And daily as we downward glide, 
Life's ebbing stream on either side 
Shows at each turn some mould'ring hope or joy, 
The Man seems following still the funeral of the 
Boy. 

Open our eyes. Thou Sun of life and gladness. 

That we may see that glorious world of Thine ! 
It shines for us in vain, while drooping sadness 
Enfolds us here like mist : come, Power benign, 
Touch our chill'd hearts with vernal smile, 
Our wintry course do Thou beguile. 
Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn. 
Who have th' eternal towers for our appointed 
bourne. 




.i&etonb dSuntsap aftet €rniitp. 

Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We Jcnow that 
we have passed from death unto life, because we love the breth- 
ren. — 1 St. John iii. 13, 14. 

[HE clouds that wrap the setting sun 
When Autumn's softest gleams are 
ending, 

Where all bright hues together run 
In sweet confusion blending : — 
Why, as we watch their floating wreath, 
Seem they the breath of life to breathe ? 
To Fancy's eye their motions prove 
They mantle round the Sun for love. 

When up some woodland dale we catch 
The many-twinkling smile ^ of ocean, 
Or with pleas'd ear bewilder'd watch 

His chime of restless motion ; 
Still as the surging waves retire 
They seem to gasp with strong desire. 
Such signs of love old Ocean gives, 
We cannot choose but think he lives. 

. ^ TTovTcuv re KVfzdTUV 

avTipi'&fiov yeXaofia .... iEschyl. Prom. 89. 



168 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Woiildst thou the life of soiils discern ? 

Nor human wisdom nor divine 
Helps thee by aught beside to learn ; 

Love is life's only sign. 
The spring of the regenerate heart, 
The pulse, the glow of every part, 
Is the true love of Christ our Lord, 
As man embrac'd, as God ador'd. 

But he, whose heart will bound to mark 

The full bright burst of summer morn. 
Loves too each little dewy spark 

By leaf or flow'ret worn : 
Cheap forms, and common hues, 't is true, 
Through the bright shower-drop meet his view ; 
The coloring may be of this earth ; 
Tae. lustre comes of heavenly birth. 

E'en so, who loves the Lord aright, 

No soul of man can worthless find ; 
All will be precious in his sight, 

Since Christ on all hath shin'd : 
But chiefly Christian souls ; for they, 
Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay, 
Are yet, to eyes that see them true. 
All glistening with baptismal dew. 

Then marvel not, if such as bask 

In purest light of innocence, 
Hope against hope, in love's dear task. 
Spite of all dark offence. 



SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 169 

If they who hate the trespass most, 
Yet, when all other love is lost. 
Love the poor sinner, marvel not ; 
Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot. 

No distance breaks the tie of blood ; 

Brothers are brothers evermore ; 
Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood. 

That magic may o'erpower ; 
Oft, ere the common source be known. 
The kindred drops will claim their own. 
And throbbing pulses silently 
Move heart towards heart by sympathy. 

So is it with true Christian hearts ; 

Their mutual share in Jesus' blood 
An everlasting bond imparts 
Of holiest brotherhood : 
Oh ! might we all our lineage prove, 
Give and forgive, do good and love, 
By soft endearments in kind strife 
Lightening the load of daily life ! 

There is much need : for not as yet 

Are we in shelter or repose. 
The holy house is still beset 

With leaguer of stern foes ; 
"Wild thoughts within, bad men without. 
All evil spirits round about. 



170 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Are banded in unblest device, 
To spoil Love's earthly paradise. 

Then draw we nearer day by day, 

Each to his brethren, all to God ; 
Let the world take us as she may, 

We must not change our road ; 
Not wondering, though in grief, to find 
The martyr's foe still keep her mind ; 
But fix'd to hold Love's banner fast, 
And by submission win at last. 




■ There is joy in ihe presence of the angels of God over one sinner 
that repenieih. — St. Luke xv. 10. 

HATEFUL spell of Sin ! when friends 
, j^. i are nigh, 

To make stern Memory tell her tale 
unsought, 
Ajid raise accusing shades of hours gone by, 
To come between us and all kindly thought ! 

Chill'd at her touch, the self-reproaching soul 
Flies from the heart and home she dearest 
loves 

To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll, 
Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves. 

In vain : the averted cheek in loneliest dell 
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear. 

The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell 
Our heart's sad secret to the silent air. 

Nor is the dream untrue ; for all around 

The heavens are watching with their thou- 
sand eyes, 



172 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

"We cannot pass our guardian angel's bound, 
Resign'd or sullen, he will hear our sighs. 

He in the mazes of the budding wood 

Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance 
Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is 
strew'd 
With the first flowers that lead the vernal 
dance. 

In wasteful bounty shower'd, they smile unseen, 
Unseen by man — but what if purer sprights 

By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean 
T' adore the Father of all gentle lights ? 

If such there be, grief and shame to think 
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy, 

A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink 
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy ! 

O turn, and be thou turn'd ! the selfish tear. 
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun, 

Let it flow on, but flow refin'd and clear. 
The turbid waters brightening as they run. 

Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart 
In penitential drops have ebb'd away. 

Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy 
part. 
Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray. 



THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 173 

O lost and found ! all gentle souls below 

Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and 
prove 

Such joy o'er thee, as raptur'd seraphs know, 
"Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love. 



fomt^ dS^un&ap after ^tinitp. 

For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the 
manifestation of the sons of God. For the creature was 
mode subject to vanity^ not willingly, but by reason of Him 
who hath subjected the same in hope, because the creature 
itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption 
into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know 
that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain to- 
gether until now. — Eomans viii. 19-22. 

T was not then a poet's dream, 
An idle vaunt of song, 
Such as beneath the moon's soft gleam 
On vacant fancies throng ; 

Which bids us see in heaven and earth, 

In all fair things around. 
Strong yearnings for a blest new birth 

With sinless glories crown'd ; 

Which bids us hear, at each sweet pause 

From care and want and toil, 
When dewy eve her curtain draws 

Over the day's turmoil, 




FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 175 

In the low chant of wakeful birds, 

In the deep weltering flood, 
In whispering leaves, these solemn words — 

" God made us all for good.'* 

All true, all faultless, all in tune, 

Creation's wondrous choir, 
Open'd in mystic unison. 

To last till time expire. 

And still it lasts : by day and night. 

With one consenting voice. 
All hymn Thy glory. Lord, aright, 

All worship and rejoice. 

Man only mars the sweet accord, 
O'erpowering with " harsh din " 

The music of Thy works and word. 
El match'd with grief and sin. 

Sin is with man at morning break, 

And through the livelong day 
Deafens the ear that fain would wake 

To Nature's simple lay. 

But when eve's silent foot-fall steals 

Along the eastern sky. 
And one by one to earth reveals 

Those purer fires on high, 



176 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Wlien one by one each human sound 

Dies on the awful ear, 
Then Nature's voice no more is drown' d, 

She speaks, and we must hear. 

Then pours she on the Christian heart 
That warning still and deep. 

At which high spirits of old would start 
E'en from their Pagan sleep, 

Just guessing, through their murky blind. 
Few, faint, and baffling sight. 

Streaks of a brighter heaven behind, 
A cloudless depth of light. 

Such thoughts, the wreck of Paradise, 
Through many a dreary age. 

Upbore whate'er of good and wise 
Yet liv'd in bard or sage : 

They mark'd what agonizing throes 
Shook the great mother's womb ; 

But Reason's spells might not disclose 
The gracious birth to come ; 

Nor could th' enchantress Hope forecast 
God's secret love and power ; 

The travail pangs of Earth must last 
Till her appointed hour ; 



FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 177 

The hour that saw from opening heaven 

Redeeming glory stream, 
Beyond the summer hues of even, 

Beyond the mid-day beam. 

Thenceforth, to eyes of high desire, 

The meanest things below. 
As with a seraph's robe of fire 

Invested, burn and glow : 

The rod of Heaven has touch'd them all. 
The word from Heaven is spoken ; 

" Rise, shine, and sing, thou captive thrall : 
Are not thy fetters broken ? 

" The God Who hallow'd thee and blest. 

Pronouncing thee all good — 
Hath He not all thy wrongs redrest, 

And all thy bliss renew'd ? 

" Why mourn'st thou still as one bereft. 

Now that th' eternal Son 
His blessed home in Heaven hath left 

To make thee all His own ? " 

Thou mourn'st because Sin lingers still 
In Christ's new heaven and earth ; 
Because our rebel works and will 

Stain our immortal birth : 

12 



178 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Because, as Love and Prayer grow cold, 
The Saviour hides His face, 

And worldlings blot the temple's gold 
With uses vile and base. 

Hence all thy groans and travail pains 
Hence, till thy God return. 

In Wisdom's ear thy blithest strains, 
Oh Nature, seem to mourn. 




And Simon answering said unto Him, Master, we have tailed all 
the night, and have taken nothing : nevertheless at Thy word 1 
will let down the net. And when they had this done, they in- 
closed a great multitude ofjishes : and their net brake. — St. 
Luke v. 5, 6. 

HE livelong night we 've toil'd in vain, 

But at Thy gracious word 
I will let down the net again : — 
Do Thou Thy will, O Lord ! " 

So spake the weary fisher, spent 

With bootless darkling toil, 
Yet on his Master's bidding bent 

For love and not for spoil. 

So day by day and week by week. 

In sad and weary thought. 
They muse, whom God hath set to seek 

The souls His Christ hath bought. 

For not upon a tranquil lake 

Our pleasant task we ply, 
Where all along our glistening wake 

The softest moonbeams lie ; 



180 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Where rippling wave and dashing oar 
Our midnight chant attend, 

Or whispering pahn-leaves from the shore 
With midnight silence blend. 

Sweet thoughts of peace, ye may not last : 
Too soon some ruder sound 

Calls us from where ye soar so fast 
Back to our earthly round. 

For wildest storms our ocean sweep : — 

No anchor but the Cross 
Might hold : and oft the thankless deep 

Turns all our toil to loss. 

Full many a dreary anxious hour 

We watch our nets alone 
In drenching spray, and driving shower, 

And hear the night-bird's moan : 

At morn we look, and naught is there ; 

Sad dawn of cheerless day ! 
Who then from pining and despair 

The sickening heart can stay ? 

There is a stay — and we are strong ; 

Our Master is at hand, 
To cheer our solitary song, 

And guide us to the strand. 



FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 181 

In His own time : but yet awhile 

Our bark at sea must ride : 
Cast after cast, by force or guile 

All waters must be tried : 

By blameless guile or gentle force, 

As when He deign'd to teach 
(The loadstar of our Christian course) 

Upon this sacred beach. 

Should e'er Thy wonder-working grace 

Triumph by our weak arm, 
Let not our sinful fancy trace 

Aught human in the charm : 



To our own nets * ne'er bow we down, 

Lest on the eternal shore 
The angels, while our draught they own, 

Reject us evermore : 



Or, if for our unworthiness 

Toil, prayer, and watching fail, 

In disappointment Thou canst bless. 
So love at heart prevail. 

1 They sacrifice unto their net, and burn incense unto their 
drag. — Hahahlcuh i. 16. 

2 St. Matthew xiii. 49. 




J>ijCt!) dS^m^ap after €riiiitp» 

David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord. And 
Nathan said unto David, The Lm^dhath also put away thy sin ; 
thou shalt not die. — 2 Samuel xii. 13. 

'HEN bitter thoughts, of conscience born, 
With sinners wake at morn, 
When from our restless couch we start, 
With fever'd lips and wither'd heart, 
Where is the spell to charm those mists away, 
And make new morning in that darksome day ? 
One draught of spring's delicious air. 
One steadfast thought, that God is there. 

These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought,^ 
Thou Lord of time and thought. 

Lifting and lowering souls at will. 

Crowding a world of good or ill 
Lito a moment's vision ; even as light 
Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright. 

From west to east one thrilling ray 

Turning a wintry world to May. 

1 See Herbert's Poems, p. 160. 



SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 183 

Wouldst thou the pangs of guilt assuage ? 

Lo ! here an open page, 
Where heavenly mercy shines as free, 
Written in balm, sad heart, for thee. 
Never so fast, in silent April shower, 
Flush'd into green the dry and leafless bower,* 
As Israel's crowned mourner felt 
The dull hard stone within him melt. 

The absolver saw the mighty grief, 

And hasten'd with relief; — 
" The Lord forgives ; thou shalt not die " : 
'T was gently spoke, yet heard on high, 
And all the band of angels, us'd to sing 
In heaven, accordant to his raptur'd string. 
Who many a month had turn'd away 
With veiled eyes, nor own'd his lay, 

Now spread their wings and throng around 
To the glad mournful sound. 

And welcome, with bright open face. 

The broken heart to love's embrace. 
The rock is smitten, and to future years 
Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears ^ 

And holy music, whispering peace 

Till time and sin together cease. 

1 And all this leafless and uncolor'd scene 
Shall flush into variety again. — Cowper. 

2 The fifty-first Psalm. 



184 SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

There drink ; and when ye are at rest, 
With that free Spirit blest,^ 

Who to the contrite can dispense 

The princely heart of innocence, 
If ever, floating from faint earthly lyre, 
Was wafted to your soul one high desire, 

By all the trembling hope ye feel, 

Think on the minstrel as ye kneel : 

Think on the shame, that dreadful hour 

When tears shall have no power. 
Should his own lay th' accuser prove. 
Cold while he kindled other's love : 
And let your prayer for charity arise, 
That his own heart may hear his melodies, 
And a true voice to him may cry, 
" Thy God forgives — thou shalt not die." 

1 Psalm li. 12. " Uphold me with Thy/ree Spirit." The 
original word seems to mean " ingenuous, princely, noble." 
Read Bishop Home's Paraphrase on the verse. 




^ebentf) dSuntiap after Criitttp. 

From lohence can a man satisfy these men with bread here in 
the wilderness'? — St. Maek viii. 4. 

;0 not away, thou weary soul : 
Heaven has in store a precious dole 
Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome 
height, 
Where over rocks and sands arise 
Proud Sirion in the northern skies, 
And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noon- 
day light. 

And far below, Gennesaret's main 
Spreads many a mile of liquid plain, 

(Though all seem gather'd in one eager boimd,) 
Then narrowing cleaves yon palmy lea. 
Towards that deep sulphureous sea. 

Where five proud cities lie, by one dire sentence 
drown'd. 

Landscape of fear ! yet, weary heart. 
Thou need'st not in thy gloom depart, 
Nor fainting turn to seek thy distant homt* 



186 SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Sweetly thy sickening throbs are ey'd 
By the kind Saviour at thy side ; 
For healing and for balm e'en now thine hour 
is come. 

No fiery wing is seen to glide, 
No cates ambrosial are supplied, 

But one poor fisher's rude and scanty store 
Is all He asks (and more than needs) 
Who men and angels daily feeds, 

And stills the wailing sea-bird on the hungry 
shore. 

The feast is o'er, the guests are gone, 

And over all that upland lone 
The breeze of eve sweeps wildly as of old — 

But far unlike the former dreams, 

The heart's sweet moonlight softly gleams 
Upon life's varied view, so joyless erst and cold. 

As mountain travellers in the night, 
When heaven by fits is dark and bright, 

Pause listening on the silent heath, and hear 
Nor trampling hoof nor tinkling bell. 
Then bolder scale the rugged fell. 

Conscious the more of One, ne'er seen, yet ever 
near : 

So when the tones of rapture gay 
On the lorn ear, die quite away, 



SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 187 

The lonely world seems lifted nearer heaven ; 
Seen daily, yet unmark'd before, 
Earth's common paths are strewn all o'er 

With flowers of pensive hope, the wreath of man 
forgiven. 

The low sweet tones of Nature's lyra 

No more on listless ears expire, 
Nor vainly smiles along the shady way 

The primrose in her vernal nest, 

Nor unlamented sink to rest 
Sweet roses one by one, nor autumn leaves 
decay. 

There 's not a star the heaven can show, 

There 's not a cottage hearth below. 
But feeds with solace kind the willing soul — 

Men love us, or they need our love ; 

Freely they own, or heedless prove 
The curse of lawless hearts, the joy of self-con- 
trol. 

Then rouse thee from desponding sleep, 

Nor by the wayside lingering weep, 
Nor fear to seek Him farther in the wild. 

Whose love can turn earth's worst and least 

Into a conqueror's royal feast : 
Thou wilt not be untrue, thou shalt not be be- 
guil'd. 




€igi|t|) J^un&ap after €tittitp* 

It is the man of God, who was disobedient unto the word of the 
Lord. — 1 Kings xiii. 26. 

ROPHET of God, arise and take 
With thee the words of wrath divine, 
The scourge of Heaven, to shake 
O'er yon apostate shrine. 

Where Angels down the lucid stair 
Came hovering to our sainted sires, 

Now, in the twilight, glare 

The heathen's wizard fires. 

Go, with thy voice the altar rend, 

Scatter the ashes, be the arm, 
That idols would befriend, 
Shrunk at thy withering charm. 

Then turn thee, for thy time is short, 
But trace not o'er the former way, 

Lest idol pleasures court 

Thy heedless soul astray. 

Thou know'st how hard to hurry by, 
Where on the lonely woodland road 



EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 189 

Beneath the moonlight sky 
The festal warblings flow'd ; 

Where maidens to the Queen of Heaven 
"Wove the gay dance round oak or palm, 

Or breath'd their vows at even 

In hymns as soft as balm. 



Or thee, perchance, a darker spell 
Enthralls : the smooth stones of the flood,^ 

By mountain grot or fell 

Pollute with infant's blood ; 

The giant altar on the rock, 
The cavern whence the timbrel's call 
Affrights the wandering flock : — 
Thou long'st to search them all. 

Trust not the dangerous path again — 
forward step and lingering will ! 

O lov'd and warn'd in vain ! 

And wilt thou perish still ? 

Thy message given, thine home in sight, 
To the forbidden feast return ? 

Yield to the false delight 

Thy better soul could spurn ? 

1 Among the smooth stones of the stream is thy portion ; 
they, they are thy lot. — Isaiah Ivii. 6. 



190 EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Alas, my brother ! round thy tomb 

In sorrow kneeling, and in fear. 
We read the Pastor's doom 
Who speaks and will not hear. 

The gray-hair'd saint may fail at last, 
The surest guide a wanderer prove ; 
Death only binds us fast 
To the bright shore of love. 




I^ittt!) ^uit&ap after €rmitp* 

And after the earthquake ajire; but the Lord was not in the 
Jire : and after the fire a still small voice. — 1 Kings xix. 12. 

N troublous days of anguish and rebuke, 
While sadly round them Israel's chil- 
dren look, 

And their eyes fail for waiting on their Lord : 
While underneath each awful arch of green, 
On every mountain top, God's chosen scene 
Of pure heart-worship, Baal is ador'd : 

'T is well, true hearts should for a time retire 
To holy ground, in quiet to aspire 

Towards promis'd regions of serener grace ; 
On Horeb, with Elijah, let us lie. 
Where all around on mountain, sand, and sky, 

God's chariot-wheels have left distinctest 
trace. 

There, if in jealousy and strong disdain 
We to the sinner's God of sin complain. 

Untimely seeking here the peace of Heaven — 
" It is enough, Lord ! now let me die 
E'en as my fathers did : for what am I 

That I should stand, where they have vainly 
striven ? " 



192 NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Perhaps our God may of our conscience ask, 
" What doest thou here, frail wanderer from thy 
task? 
Where hast thou left those few sheep in the 
wild?"i 
Then should we plead our heart's consuming 

pain, 
At sight of ruin'd altars, prophets slain, 

And God's own ark with blood of souls defil'd ; 

He on the rock may bid us stand, and see 
The outskirts of His march of mystery, 

His endless warfare with man's wilful heart ; 
First, His great power He to the sinner shows, 
Lo ! at His angry blast the rocks unclose, 

And to their base the trembling mountains 
part: 

Yet the Lord is not here : 't is not by Power 
He will be known — but darker tempests lower ; 

Still, sullen heavings vex the laboring ground : 
Perhaps His Presence thro' all depth and height, 
Best of all gems, that deck His crown of light, 

The haughty eye may dazzle and confound. 

God is not in the earthquake ; but behold 
From Sinai's caves are bursting, as of old. 
The flames of His consuming jealous ire. 
Woe to the sinner, should stern Justice prove 

1 1 Samuel xvii. 28. 



NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 193 

His chosen attribute ; — but He in love 

Hastes to proclaim, " God is not in the fire." 

The storm is o'er — and hark ! a still small 

voice 
Steals on the ear, to say, Jehovah's choice 

Is ever with the soft, meek, tender soul : 
]^y soft, meek, tender ways He loves to draw 
The sinner, startled by His ways of awe : 

Here is our Lord, and not where thunders roll. 

Back then, complainer : loathe thy life no more, 
Nor deem thyself upon a desert shore. 

Because the rocks the nearer prospect close. 
Yet in fallen Israel are there hearts and eyes 
That day by day in prayer like thine arise : 

Thou know'st them not, but their Creator 
knows. 

Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast 
Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last ^ 

In joy to find it after many days. 
The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part : 
Choose to believe, not see: sight tempts the 
heart 

From sober walking in true Gospel ways. 

1 Ecclesiastes xi. 1. 
13 




€ent!) dSun&ap aftei: Crinitp. 

And when He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over 
it. — St. Luke xis. 41. 

JHY doth my Saviour weep 

At sight of Sion's bowers ? 
Shows it not fair from yonder steep, 
Her gorgeous crown of towers ? 
Mark well His holy pains : 

'T is not in pride or scorn, 
That Israel's King with sorrow stains 
His own triumphal morn. 

It is not that His soul 

Is wandering sadly on, 
In thought how soon at death's dark goal 

Their course will all be run, 
Who no\^ are shouting round j 

Hosanna to their chief ; 
No thought like this in Him is found, 

This were a Conqueror's grief.* 

Or doth He feel the Cross 

Already in His heart, 
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss ? 

Feel e'en His God depart ? 

1 Compare Herod, vii. 46. 



TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 195 

No : though He knew full well 

The grief that then shall be — ■ 

The grief that angels cannot tell — 
Our God in agony. 

It is not thus He mourns ; 

Such might be Martyr's tears, 
When his last lingering look he turns 

On human hopes and fears ; 
But hero ne'er or saint 

The secret load might know, 
"With which His spirit waxeth faint ; 

His is a Saviour's woe. 

" If thou hadst known, e'en thou, 

At least in this thy day. 
The message of thy peace ! but now 

'T is pass'd for aye away : 
Now foes shall trench thee round, 

And lay thee even with earth, 
And dash thy children to the ground, 

Thy glory and thy mirth." 

And doth the Saviour weep 

Over His people's sin. 
Because we will not let Him keep 

The souls He died to win ? 
Ye hearts, that love the Lord, 

If at this sight ye burn, 
See that in thought, in deed, in word, 

Ye hate what made Hin? mourn. 




oEIetoentfj ^utttjap after €rimtp. 

T$ it a time io receive money, and to receive garments, and oliver- 
yards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and men-servants, 
and maidservants f — 2 Kings v. 26. 

|S this a time to plant and build, 
Add house to house, and field to field, 
When round our walls the battle lowers. 
When mines are hid beneath our towers, 
And watchful foes are stealing round 
To search and spoil the holy ground ? 

Is this a time for moonlight dreams 
Of love and home by mazy streams, 
For Fancy with her shadowy toys. 
Aerial hopes and pensive joys, 
While souls are wandering far and wide, 
And curses swarm on every side ? 

No — rather steel thy melting heart 
To act the martyr's sternest part, 
To watch, with firm unshrinking eye, 
Thy darling visions as they die, 
Till all bright hopes, and hues of day, 
Have faded into twilight gray. 



ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 197 

Yes — let them pass without a sigh, 

And if the world seem dull and dry. 

If long and sad thy lonely hours, 

And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers, 

Bethink thee what thou art and where, 

A sinner in a life of care. 

The fire of God is soon to fall 
(Thou know'st it) on this earthly ball ; 
Full many a soul, the price of blood, 
Mark'd by th' Almighty's hand for good, 
To utter death that hour shall sweep — 
And will the Saints in Heaven dare weep ? 

Then in His wrath shall God uproot 
The trees He set, for lack of fruit, 
And drown in rude tempestuous blaze 
The towers His hand had deign'd to raise ; 
In silence, ere that storm begin, 
Count o'er His mercies and thy sin. 

Pray only that thine aching heart. 
From visions vain content to part. 
Strong for Love's sake its woe to hide 
May cheerful wait the Cross beside, 
Too happy if, that dreadful day. 
Thy life be given thee for a prey.-^ 

1 The Lord saith thus: Behold, that which I have bnilt 
will I break down, and that which I have planted I will pluck 
np, even this Avhole land. And seekest thou great things for 



198 ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 

Snatch'd sudden from th' avenging rod, 
Safe in the bosom of thy God, 
How wdlt thou then look back, and smile 
On thoughts that bitterest seem'd erewhile, 
And bless the pangs that made thee see 
This was no world of rest for thee ! 

thyself V Seek them not: for, behold, I will bring evil upon 
all ilesh, saith the Lord : but thy life will I give unto thee for 
a prey in all places whither thou goest. — Jeremiah xlv. 
4,5. 




€t0elft| ^imtiap after €i:iititp* 

A.nd looking up to Heaven, He sighed, and saith unto Mm, Eph 
phatlia, that is, Be opened. — St. IMakk vii. 34. 

''^^^^^^^HE Son of God in doing good 

Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh : 
And shall the heirs of sinful blood 
Seek joy unmix'd in charity ? 
God will not let Love's work unpart 
Full solace, lest it steal the heart ; 
Be thou content in tears to sow, 
Blessing, like Jesus, in thy woe : 

He look'd to Heaven, and sadly sigh'd — 
What saw my gracious Saviour there. 
With fear and anguish to divide 

The joy of Heaven-accepted prayer ? 
So o'er the bed where Lazarus slept 
He to His Father groan'd and wept : 
What saw He mournful in that grave, 
Knowing Himself so strong to save ? 

O'erwhelming thoughts of pain and grief 
Over His sinking spirit sweep ; — • 

" What boots it gathering one lost leaf 
Out of yon sere and wither'd heap. 



200 TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Where souls and bodies, hopes and joys, 
All that earth owns or sin destroys, 
Under the spurning hoof are cast, 
Or tossing in th' autumnal blast ? " 

The deaf may hear the Saviour's voice, 

The fetter'd tongue its chain may break ; 
But the deaf heart, the dumb by choice. 

The laggard soul, that will not wake, 
The guilt that scorns to be forgiven ; — 
These baffle e'en the spells of Heaven ; 
In thought of these, His brows benign 
Not even in healing cloudless shine. 

No eye but His might ever bear 

To gaze all down that drear abyss, 
Because none ever saw so clear 

The shore beyond of endless bliss : 
The giddy waves so restless hurl'd. 
The vex'd pulse of this feverish world. 
He views and counts with steady sight ; 
TJs'd to behold the Infinite. 

But that in such communion high 
He hath a fount of strength within. 

Sure His meek heart would break and die, 
O'erburden'd by His brethren's sin ; 

Weak eyes on darkness dare not gaze. 

It dazzles like the noon-day blaze ; 

But He who sees God's face may brook 

On the true face of Sin to look. 



TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 201 

What then shall wretched sinners do, 

When in their last, their hopeless day, 
Sin, as it is, shall meet their view, 

God turn His face for aye away ? 
Lord, by Thy sad and earnest eye. 
When Thou didst look to Heaven and sigh ; 
Thy voice, that with a word could chase 
The dumb, deaf spirit from his place ; 

As Thou hast touch'd our ears, and taught 
Our tongues to speak Thy praises plain. 
Quell Thou each thankless, godless thought 

That would make fast our bonds again. 
From worldly strife, from mirth unblest. 
Drowning Thy music in the breast, 
From foul reproach, from thrilling fears, 
Preserve, good Lord, Thy servants' ears. 

From idle words, that restless throng 

And haunt our hearts when we would pray, 

From Pride's false chime, and jarring wrong, 
Seal Thou my lips and guard the way : 

For Thou hast sworn, that every ear. 

Willing or loth, Thy trump shall hear. 

And every tongue unchained be 

To own no hope, no God, but Thee. 




€|)htentt!) <i&unDap after €nnitp* 

And He turned Him unto His disciples, and said privately, 
Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see : for 1 
tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see 
those things which ye see, and have not seen them: and to 
hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them. — 
St. Luke x. 23, 24. 

N Sinai's top, in prayer and trance, 
Full forty nights and forty days 
The Prophet watch'd for one dear 
glance 
Of Thee and of Thy ways : 

Fasting he watch'd and all alone, 

Wrapt in a still, dark, solid cloud, 
The curtain of the Holy One 

Drawn round him like a shroud : 

So, separate from the world, his breast 
Might duly take and strongly keep 

The print of Heaven, to be express'd 
Ere long on Sion's steep.-^ 

A See that thou make all things according to the pattern 
showed to thee in the mount. — Hebrews viii. 5. 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 203 

There one by one his spirit saw 

Of things divine the shadows bright, 

The pageant of God's perfect law ; 
Yet felt not full delight. 

Through gold and gems, a dazzling maze. 

From veil to veil the vision led, 
And ended, where unearthly rays 

From o'er the ark were shed. 

Yet not that gorgeous place, nor aught 

Of human or angelic frame. 
Could half appease his craving thought ; 

The void was still the same. 

" Show me Thy glory, gracious Lord ! 

'T is Thee," he cries, " not Thine, I seek." ^ 
Nay, start not at so bold a word 

From man, frail worm and weak : 

The spark of his first deathless fire 
Yet buoys him up, and high above 

The holiest creature, dares aspire 
To the Creator's love. 

The eye in smiles may wander round, 
Caught by earth's shadows as they fleet ; 

But for the soul no help is found. 
Save Him who made it, meet. 

1 Exodus xxxiii. IS . 



204 THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Spite of yourselves, ye witness this/ 
Who blindly self or sense adore ; 

Else wherefore leaving your own bliss 
Still restless ask ye more ? 

This witness bore the saints of old 
When highest rapt and favor'd most, 

Still seeking precious things untold, 
Not in fruition lost. 

Canaan was theirs, and in it all 
The proudest hope of kings dare claim : 

Sion was theirs ; and at their call 
Fire from Jehovah came. 

Yet monarchs walk'd as pilgrims still 
In their own land, earth's pride and 
grace ; 

And seers would mourn on Sion's hill 
Their Lord's averted face. 

Vainly they tried the deeps to sound 
E'en of their own prophetic thought, 

When of Christ crucified and crown'd 
His Spirit in them taught : 

But He their aching gaze repress'd 
Which sought behind the veil to see, 

1 Peusdes de Pascal, part 1 art. viii. 



THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 205 

For not without us fully bless'd ^ 
Or perfect might they be. 

The rays of the Almighty's face 

No sinner's eye might then receive ; 

Only the meekest man found grace ^ 
To see His skirts and live. 

But we as in a glass espy 

The glory of His countenance, 
Not in a whirlwind hurrying by 

The too presumptuous glance, 

But with mild radiance every hour, 
From our dear Saviour's face benign 

Bent on us with transforming power, 
Till we, too, faintly shine. 

Sprinkled with His atoning blood 
Safely before our God we stand, 

As on the rock the Prophet stood, 
Beneath His shadowing hand. 

Bless'd eyes, which see the things we see ! 

And yet this tree of life hath proved 
To many a soul a poison tree, 

Beheld, and not belov'd. 

1 That they without ns should not be made perfect. — He^ 
brews xi. 40. 

2 Exodus xxxiii. 20-23. 



206 THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

So like an angel's is our bliss 

(Oh ! thought to comfort and appall) 

It needs must bring, if us'd amiss, 
An angel's hopeless fall. 




fnmttmtfy ^untiap after Ctinitp* 

And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? bul 
where are the nine? There are not found that returned to 
give, glory to God, save this stranger. 

St. Luke xvii. 17, 18. 

EN cleans'd, and only one remain ! 
Who would have thought our nature's 
stain 
Was dyed so foul, so deep in grain ? 

E'en He who reads the heart, — 
Knows what He gave and what we lost, 
Sin's forfeit, and redemption's cost, — 
By a short pang of wonder cross'd 
Seems at the sight to start : 

Yet 't was not wonder, but His love 
Our wavering spirits would reprove, 
That heavenward seem so free to move 

When earth can yield no more : 
Then from afar on God we cry ; 
But should the mist of woe roll by, 
Not showers across an April sky 

Drift, when the storm is o'er, 

Faster than those false drops and few 
Fleet from the heart, a worthless dew. 
What sadder scene can angels view 
Than self-deceiving tears, 



208 FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Pour'd idly over some dark page 
Of earlier life, though pride or rage 
The record of to-day engage, 
A woe for future years ? 

Spirit, that round the sick man's bed 
Watch'd, noting down each prayer he made, 
Were your unerring roll display'd, 

His pride of health t' abase ; 
Or, when soft showers in season fall 
Answering a famish'd nation's call, 
Should unseen fingers on the wall 

Our vows forgotten trace ; 

How should we gaze in trance of fear ! 
Yet shines the light as thrilling clear 
From Heaven upon that scroll severe, 

" Ten cleans'd and one remain ! " 
Nor surer would the blessing prove 
Of humbled hearts, that own Thy love, 
Should choral welcome from above 

Visit our senses plain ; 

Than by Thy placid voice and brow 
With healing first, with comfort now, 
Turn'd upon him, who hastes to bow 

Before Thee, heart and knee ; 
« Oh ! thou, who only wouldst be blest, 
On thee alone My blessing rest ! 
Rise, go thy way in peace, possess'd 

For evermore of Me." 




frSttmt^ ^un&ap after €rxnttp* 

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grcno. 

St. Matthew vi. 28. 

JWEET nurslings of the vernal skies, 
Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew, 
What more than magic in you lies. 
To fill the heart's fond view ? 
In childhood's sports, companions gay, 
In sorrow, on Life's downward way, 
How soothing ! in our last decay 
Memorials prompt and true. 

Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, 

As pure, as fragrant, and as fair. 
As when ye crown'd the sunshine hours 

Of happy wanderers there. 
Fall'n all beside — the world of life. 
How is it stain'd with fear and strife ! 
In Reason's world what storms are rife. 

What passions range and glare ! 

But cheerful and unchang'd the while 
Your first and perfect form ye show, 

The same that won Eve's matron-smile 
In the world's opening glow. 
14 



210 FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

The stars of heaven a course are taught 
Too high above our human thought ; 
Ye may be found if ye are sought, 
And as we gaze, we know. 

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, 

Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow, 
And guilty man, where'er he roams, 
Your innocent mirth may borrow. 
The birds of air before us fleet, 
They cannot brook our shame to meet — 
But we may taste your solace sweet 
And come again to-morrow. 

Ye fearless in your nests abide — 

Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, 
Your silent lessons, undescried 

By all but lowly eyes, 
For ye could draw th' admiring gaze 
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys : 
Your order wild, your fragrant maze, 
He taught us how to prize. 

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour. 

As when He paus'd and own'd you good ; 

His blessing on earth's primal bower. 
Ye felt it all renew'd. 

What care ye now, if winter's storm 

Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form ? 

Christ's blessing at your heart is warm, 
Ye fear no vexing mood. 



FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 211 

Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind, 

That daily court you and caress, 
How few the happy secret find 

Of your calm loveliness ! 
" Live for to-day ! to-morrow's light 
To morrow's cares shall bring to sight. 
Go sleep like closing flowers at night, 
And Heaven thy morn will bless." 




^ijctceittf) dSun&ap after Crinitp. 

/ desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you, which is 
your glory. — Ephesians iii. 13. 

[^ISH not, dear friends, my pain away — 
Wish me a wise and thankful heart, 
With God, in all my griefs, to stay, 
Nor from His lov'd correction start. 

The dearest offering He can crave 

His portion in our souls to prove. 
What is it to the gift He gave, 

The only Son of His dear love ? 

But we, like vex'd, unquiet sprights, 
Will still be hovering o'er the tomb, 

Where buried lie our vain delights, 
Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom. 

In life's long sickness evermore 

Our thoughts are tossing to and fro : 

We change our posture o'er and o'er, 
But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe. 

Were it not better to lie still, 

Let Him strike home and bless the rod, 
Never so safe as when our will 

Yields imdiscern'd by all but God ? 



SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 213 

Thy precious things, whate'er they be 

That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain, 

Look to the Cross, and thou shalt see 
How thou mayst turn them all to gain. 

Lovest thou praise ? the Cross is shame : 
Or ease? the Cross is bitter grief: 

More pangs than tongue or heart can frame 
Were sufFer'd there without relief. 

We of that Altar would partake, 

But cannot quit the cost — no throne 

Is ours, to leave for Thy dear sake — 
We cannot do as Thou hast done. 

We cannot part with Heaven for Thee — 
Yet guide us in Thy track of love : 

Let us gaze on where light should be, 
Though not a beam the clouds remove. 

So wanderers ever fond and true 

Look homeward through the evening sky, 

Without a streak of heaven's soft blue 
To aid Affection's dreaming eye. 

The wanderer seeks his native bower. 
And we will look and long for Thee, 

And thank Thee for each trying hour, 
Wishing, not struggling, to be free. 




^t\^mttmt^ <^untrap after €tmtp. 

Every man of the house of Israel that setteth up his idols in his 
heart andpuiteth the stumhling-hloch of his iniquity before his 
face, and cometh to the Prophet ; I the Lord will answer Mm 
that cometh according to the multitude of his idols. 

EzEKiEL xiv. 4. 

JTATELY thy walls, and holy are the 
prayers 
Which day and night before thine altars 
rise ; 
Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs, 

Flash'd Sion's gilded dome to summer skies, 
Not holier, while around him angels bow'd, 
From Aaron's censer steam'd the spicy cloud, 

Before the mercy-seat. O Mother dear, 

Wilt thou forgive thy son one boding sigh ? 
Forgive, if round thy towers he walk in 
fear. 
And tell thy jewels o'er with jealous eye ? 
Mindful of that sad vision, which in thought ^ 
From Chebars plains the captive prophet 
brought 

1 Ezekiel viii. 3. 



SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 21e5 

To see lost Sion's shame. 'Twas morning 
prime, 
And like a Queen new-seated on her throne, 
God's crowned mountain, as in happier time, 
Seem'd to rejoice in sunshine all her own : 
So bright, while all in shade around her lay, 
Her northern pinnacles had caught th' emerging 
ray. 

The dazzling lines of her majestic roof 

Cross'd with as free a span the vault of 
heaven, 

As when twelve tribes knelt silently aloof 

Ere God His answer to their king had given,^ 

Ere yet upon the new-built altar fell 

The glory of the Lord, the Lord of Israel. 

All seems the same : but enter in and see 
What idol shapes are on the wall portray'd : ^ 

And watch their shameless and unholy glee, 
Who worship there in Aaron's robes array'd : 

Hear Judah's maids the dirge to Thammuz 
pour,^ 

And mark her chiefs yon orient sun adore.^ 

Yet turn thee, son of man — for worse than 
these 
Thou must behold : thy loathing were but lost 

1 1 Kings viii. 5. 2 Ezekiel viii. 10. 

3 Ezekiel viii. 14. 4 n^id. yiii. 16. 



X 



216 SEVENTEENTH SUNDA T AFTER TRINITY. 

On dead men's crimes, and Jews' idolatries — 
Come, learn to tell aright thine own sins* 

cost, 

And sure their sin as far from equals thine, 
As earthly hopes abus'd are less than hopes 

divine. 

What if within His world, His Church, our 

Lord 

Have enter'd thee, as in some temple gate, 

Where, looking round, each glance might thee 

afford 

Some glorious earnest of thine high estate. 

And thou, false heart and frail, hast turn'd from 

all 
To worship pleasure's shadow on the wall ? 

If, when the Lord of Glory was in sight. 

Thou turn thy back upon that fountain clear. 
To bow before the " little drop of light," 

Which dim-eyed men call praise and glory 
here ; 
What dost thou, but adore the sun, and scorn 
Him at whose only word both sun and stars 
were born ? 

If, while around thee gales from Eden breathe. 
Thou hide thine eyes, to make thy peevish 
moan 
Over some broken reed of earth beneath, 



{ 



SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 217 

Some darling of blind fancy dead and gone, 
As wisely mightst thou in Jehovah's fane 
Offer thy love and tears to Thammuz slain. 

Turn thee from these, or dare not to inquire 
Of Him whose name is Jealous, lest in wrath 

He hear and answer thine unblest desire : 

Far better we should cross His lightning's path 

Than be according to our idols heard, 

And God should take us at our own vain word. 

Thou who hast deign'd the Christian's heart to 
call 
Thy Church and Shrine : whene'er our rebel 
will 
"Would in that chosen home of Thine install 

Belial or Mammon, grant us not the ill 
We blindly ask ; in very love refuse 
Whate'er Thou know'st our weakness would 
abuse. 

Or rather help us, Lord, to choose the good, 

To pray for nought, to seek to none, but Thee, 
JSTor by " our daily bread " mean common food. 

Nor say, " From this world's evil set us free ; " 
Teach us to love, with Christ, our sole true 

bliss. 
Else, though in Christ's own words, we surely 
pray amiss. 




€ig]^teeiitf| ^unDap after €rinitp» 

[will bring you into the wildeim,ess of the people^ and there will 1 
plead with you face to face. Like as I pleaded with your 
fathers in the wilderness of the land of Egypt, so will I plead 
with you, saith the Lord God. — Eze^iel xx. 35, 36. 

T is so — ope thine eyes, and see — 
What view'st thou all around ? 
A desert, where iniquity 
And knowledge both abound. 



In the waste howling wilderness 

The Church is wandering still,^ 

Because we would not onward press 
When close to Sion's hill. 



Back to the world we faithless turn'd, 
And far along the wild. 

With labor lost and sorrow earn'd, 
Our steps have been beguil'd. 

Yet full before us, all the while, . 

The shadowing pillar stays. 
The living waters brightly smile, 

Th' eternal turrets blaze. 

Yet Heaven is raining angels' bread 
To be our daily food, 

1 Revelations xii. 14. 



EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 219 

And fresh, as when it first was shed, 
Springs forth the Saviour's blood. 

From every region, race, and speech, 
Believing myriads throng. 

Till, far as sin and sorrow reach, 
Thy grace is spread along ; 

Till sweetest nature, brightest art. 
Their votive incense bring, 

And every voice and every heart 
Own Thee their God and King: 

All own ; but few, alas ! will love ; 

Too like the recreant band 
That with Thy patient Spirit strove 

Upon the Red-sea strand. 

Father of long-suffering grace. 
Thou who hast sworn to stay 

Pleading with sinners face to face 
Through all their devious way ; 

How shall we speak to Thee, Lord, 

Or how in silence lie ? 
Look on us, and we are abhorr'd. 

Turn from us, and we die. 

Thy guardian fire. Thy guiding cloud, 
Still let them gild our wall, 



220 EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Nor be our foes and Thine allow'd 
To see us faint and fall. 

Too oft, within this camp of Thine, 

Rebellious murmurs rise ; 
Sin cannot bear to see Thee shine 

So awful to her eyes. 

Fain would our lawless hearts escape, 

And with the heathen be. 
To worship every monstrous shape 

In fancied darkness free. 



Vain thought, that shall not be at all ! 
Eefuse we or obey, 



Our ears have heard th' Almighty's call, ^ 



We cannot be as they. 

We cannot hope the heathen's doom 
To whom God's Son is given, 

Whose eyes have seen beyond the tomb, 
Who have the key of Heaven. 

Weak tremblers on the edge of woe, 
Yet shrinking from true bliss. 

Our rest must be " no rest below," 
And let our prayer be this : 

1 That wMcli Cometh into your mind shall not be at all , 
Jiat ye say, We wUl be as the heathen, as the families of the 
countries, to serve wood and stone. — Ezekiel xx. 32. 



EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 221 

" Lord, wave again Thy chastening rod, 

Till every idol throne 
Crumble to dust, and Thou, O God, 

Reign in our hearts alone. 

" Bring all our wandering fancies home, 

For Thou hast every spell. 
And 'inid the heathen where they roam, 

Thou knowest. Lord, too well. 

" Thou know'st our service sad and hard, 
Thou know'st us fond and frail ; — - 

Win us to be belov'd and spar'd 
When all the world shall fail. 

" So when at last our weary days 

Are well-nigh wasted here. 
And we can trace Thy wondrous ways 

In distance calm and clear, 

" When in Thy love and Israel's sin 

We read our story true, 
We may not, all too late, begin 

To wish our hopes were new : 

" Long lov'd, long tried, long spar'd as they, 

Unlike in this alone. 
That, by Thy grace, our hearts shall stay 

For evermore Thine own." 




Iliiieteetttl) J^un&ap after €tinitp* 

rhen Nebuchadnezzar the hing was astonied, and rose up i" 
'laste, and spahe, and said unto his counsellors, Did not wt 
cast three men bou/nd into the midst of the Jiref They an- 
sioered and said unto the Icing, True, hing. He answered 
and said, Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the 
fire, and they have tio hurt: and the form of the fourth is like 
the Son of God. — Daniel iii. 24, 25. 

}HEN Persecution's torrent blaze 

Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head ; 
When fade all earthly flowers and bays, 
When summer friends are gone and fled, 
Is he alone in that dark hour 
Who owns the Lord of love and power ? 

Or waves there not around his brow 
A wand no human arm may wield, 

Fraught with a spell no angels know. 
His steps to guide, his soul to shield ? 

Thou, Saviour, art his Charmed Bower, 

His Magic Ring, his Eock, his Tower. 

And when the wicked ones behold 

Thy favorites walking in Thy light, 
Just as, in fancied triumph bold. 



NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 223 

They deem'd them lost in deadly night, 
Amaz'd they cry, " What spell is this. 
Which turns their sufferings all to bliss ? 

" How are they free whom we had bound ? 

Upright, whom in the gulf we cast ? 
What wondrous helper have they found 

To screen them from the scorching blast ? 
Three were they — who hath made them four ? 
And sure a form divine he wore, 

" E'en like the Son of God." So cried 
The Tyrant, when in one fierce flame 

The Martyrs liv'd, the murderers died : 
Yet knew he not what angel came 

To make the rushing fire-ilood seem 

Like summer breeze by woodland stream.^ 

He knew not, but there are who know : 
The Matron, who alone hath stood, 

When not a prop seem'd left below, 
The first lorn hour of widowhood. 

Yet cheer'd and cheering all, the while, 

With sad but unaffected smile ; — 

The Father, who his vigil keeps 

By the sad couch whence hope hath flown, 
Watching the eye where reason sleeps, 

1 As it had been a moist whistling wind. — Song of the 
Three Children, ver. 27. 



224 NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

Yet in his heart can mercy own, 
Still sweetly yielding to the rod, 
Still loving man, still thanking God ; — 

The Christian Pastor, bow'd to earth 
With thankless toil, and vile esteem'd, 

Still travailing in second birth 

Of souls that will not be redeem'd, 

Tet steadfast set to do his part, 

And fearing most his own vain heart ; — 

These know : on these look long and well, 
Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith. 

And thou shalt know what secret spell 
Preserves them in their living death ; 

Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see 

The Saviour walking with His faithful Three. 




€ixjentiet!) ^untiap after €rimtp* 

Rear ye, mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong 
foundations of the earth. — Micah vi. 2. 

'HERE is Thy favor'd haunt, eternal 
Voice, 
The region of Thy choice. 
Where, undisturb'd by sin and earth, the soul 

Owns Thy entire control ? 
'T is on the mountain's summit dark and high. 

When storms are hurrying by : 
'T is 'mid the strong foundations of the earth, 
Where torrents have their birth. 

No sounds of worldly toil ascending there, 

Mar the full burst of prayer ; 
Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe. 

Around us and beneath 
Are heard her sacred tones ; the fitful sweep 

Of winds across the steep. 
Through wither'd bents — romantic note and 
clear. 

Meet for a hermit's ear, — 

The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry, 
And scarcely heard so high, 
15 



226 TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 

The dashing waters when the air is still 

From many a torrent rill 
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell, 

Track'd by the blue mist well : 
Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart 

For Thought to do her part. 

'T is then we hear the voice of God within, 

Pleading with care and sin : 
" Child of My love ! how have I wearied thee ? 

"Why wilt thou err from Me ? 
Have I not brought thee from the house of 
slaves. 

Parted the drowning waves, 
And set My saints before thee in the way, 

Lest thou shouldst faint or stray ? 

" What ! was the promise made to thee alone ? 

Art thou th' excepted one ? 
An heir of glory without grief or pain ? 

O vision false and vain ! 
There lies thy cross ; beneath it meekly bow ; 

It fits thy stature now : 
"Who scornfiil pass it with averted eye, 

'T will crush them by and by. 

" Raise thy repining eyes, and take true measure 

Of Thine eternal treasure ; 
The Father of thy Lord can grudge thee 
nought, 

The world for thee was boucrht, 



TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 227 

And as this landscape broad — eartli, sea, and 
sky — 

All centres in thine eye, 
So all God does, if rightly understood. 

Shall work thy final good/' 




Ctomtp^f fe^t ^unDa]? after €rmitp* 

The vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall 
speah^ and not lie : though it tarry, watt for it ; because it 
will surely come, it will not tarry. — Habakkuk ii. 3. 

'HE morning mist is clear'd away, 
Yet still the face of heaven is gray, 
Nor yet th' autumnal breeze has stirr'd 
the grove, 
Faded yet full, a paler green 
Skirts soberly the tranquil scene, 
The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove. ' 

Sweet messenger of " calm decay," 

Saluting sorrow as you may. 
As one still bent to find or make the best, 

In thee, and in this quiet mead, 

The lesson of sweet peace I read. 
Rather in all to be resign'd than blest. 

'T is a low chant, according well 

With the soft solitary knell. 
As homeward from some grave belov'd we turn. 

Or by some holy death-bed dear. 

Most welcome to the chasten'd ear 
Of her whom Heaven is teaching how to mourn. 



TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 229 

cheerful tender strain ! the heart 
That duly bears with you its part, 

Singing so thankful to the dreary blast, 
Though gone and spent its joyous prime. 
And on the world's autumnal time, ^ 

'Mid wither'd hues and sear, its lot be cast : 

That is the heart for thoughtful seer, 

Watching, in trance nor dark nor clear,^ 
Th' appalling Future as it nearer draws : 

His spirit calm'd the storm to meet, 

Feeling the rock beneath his feet. 
And tracing through the cloud th' eternal Cause. 

That is the heart for watchman true 

Waiting to see what God will do. 
As o'er the Church the gathering twilight falls : 

No more he strains his wistful eye. 

If chance the golden hours be nigh, 
By youthful Hope seen beaming round her walls. 

Forc'd from his shadowy paradise, 

His thoughts to Heaven the steadier rise : 
There seek his answer when the world reproves : 

Contented in his darkling round, 

If only he be faithful found. 
When from the east th' eternal morning moves. 

1 It shall come to pass in that day, that the Light shall not 
be clear, nor dark. — Zechariah xiv. 6. 



230 TWENTY-FIRST S UNDA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

Note. — The expression, "calm decay," is borrowed from a 
friend : by whose kind permission the following stanzas are 
here inserted : — 

TO THE RED-BREAST. 

Unlieard in summer's flaring ray, 
Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer. 

Wooing the stillness of the autumn day : 
Bid it a moment linger. 
Nor fly 

Too soon from winter's scowling eye. 

The blackbird's song at even-tide, 

And hers, who gay ascends, 
Filling the heavens far and wide, 

Are sweet. But none so blends, 
As thine. 
With calm decay, and peace divine. 




CtDentp^^econti ^utitrap after €riititp* 

Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I fm^giva 
him f — St. Matthew xviii. 21. 

HAT liberty so glad and gay, 
As where the mountain boy, 
Eeckless of regions far away, 
A prisoner lives in joy ? 

The dreary sounds of crowded earth, 

The cries of camp or town. 
Never untun'd his lonely mirth. 

Nor drew his visions down. 

The snow-clad peaks of rosy light 

That meet his morning view. 
The thwarting cliffs that bound his sight, 

They bound his fancy too. 

Two ways alone his roving eye 

For aye may onward go. 
Or in the azure deep on high 

Or darksome mere below. 

O blest restraint ! more blessed range ! 
Too soon the happy child 



232 TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY 

His nook of homely thought will change 
For life's seducing wild : 

Too soon his alter'd day-dreams show 
This earth a boundless space, 

With sunbright pleasures to and fro 
Sporting in joyous race : 

While of his narrowing heart each year, 
Heaven less and less will fill. 

Less keenly, through his grosser ear. 
The tones of mercy thrill. 

It must be so : else wherefore falls 
The Saviour's voice unheard. 

While from His pard'ning Cross He calls, 
" O spare as I have spar'd " ? 

By our own niggard rule we try 
The hope to suppliants given ; 

We mete out love, as if our eye 
Saw to the end of heaven. 

Yes, ransom'd sinner ! wouldst thou know 

How often to forgive. 
How dearly to embrace thy foe. 

Look where thou hop'st to live ; 

When thou hast told those isles of light. 
And fancied all beyond. 



AFTER TRINITY. 233 

Whatever owns, in depth or height, 
Creation's wondrous bond ; 

Then in their solemn pageant learn 
Sweet mercy's praise to see ; 

Their Lord resign'd them all, to earn 
The bliss of pardoning thee. 




€toentp^t|)tr& d&un&ap afttt Crinitp^ 

Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like 
unto His glorious body, according to the worlcing whereby He 
is able even to subdue all things unto Himself. 

Philippians iii. 21. 

ED o'er the forest peers the setting sun, 
The line of yellow light dies fast away 
That crown'd the eastern copse : and 
chill and dun 
Falls on the moor the brief November day. 

Now the tir'd hunter winds a parting note, 
And Echo bids good-night from every glade ; 

Yet wait awhile, and see the calm leaves float 
Each to his rest beneath their parent shade. 

How like decaying life they seem to glide ! 

And yet no second spring have they in store. 
But where they fall, forgotten to abide 

Is all their portion, and they ask no more. 

Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall 
sing, 
A thousand wild -flowers round them shall un- 
fold. 



rWENTT-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 235 

The green buds glisten in the dews of Spring, 
And all be vernal rapture as of old. 

Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie, 
In all the world of busy life around 

No thought of them ; in all the bounteous sky 
No drop, for them, of kindly influence found. 

Man's portion is to die and rise again — 

Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring 
part 

With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain, 
As his when Eden held his virgin heart. 

And haply half unblam'd his murmuring voice 
Might sound in Heaven, were all his second 
life 

Only the first renew'd — the heathen's choice, 
A round of listless joy and weary strife. 

For dreary were this earth, if earth were all. 
Though brighten'd oft by dear Affection's 
kiss ; — 

Who for the spangles wears the funeral-pall ? 
But catch a gleam beyond it, and 't is bliss. 

Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart 
Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or 
borne 

On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart 

O'er wave or field : yet breezes laugh to scorn 



236 TWENTY- THIRD S UNDA Y AFTER TRINITY. 

Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, 
And fish, like living shafts that pierce the 
main, 
And stars that shoot through freezing air at 
even — 
Who but would follow, might he break his 
chain ? 

And thou shalt break it soon ; the grovelling 
worm 

Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free 
As his transfigur'd Lord with lightning form 

And snowy vest — such grace He won for thee, 

When from the grave He sprung at dawn of 
morn, 
And led through boundless air thy conquering 
road. 
Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new-bom, 
Might fearless follow to their blest abode. 

But first, by many a stern and fiery blast 

The world's rude furnace must thy blood 
refine. 

And many a gale of keenest woe be pass'd, 
Till every pulse beat true to airs divine. 

Till every limb obey the mounting soul. 
The mounting soul, the call by Jesus given. 

He who the stormy heart can so control, 
The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven. 




€iDmtp:^f 0urt!) <^uii&ap after 
€rtiiitp* 

The heart Tcnoweth his own bitterness ; and a stranger doth not 
intermeddle with his joy. — Pkovekbs xiv. 10. 

ii^HY should we faint and fear to live 
alone, 
Since all alone, so Heaven has will'd, 
we die,^ 
Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own, 
Knows half the reasons why we smile and 
sigh ? 

Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe 
Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart, 

Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow — 
Hues of their own, fresh borrow'd from the 
heart. 

And well it is for us our God should feel 
Alone our secret throbbings : so our prayer 

May readier spring to Heaven, nor spend its zeal 
On cloud-born idols of this lower air. 
1 Je mourrai seiil. — Pascal. 



238 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY 

For if one heart in perfect sympathy 

Beat with another, answering love for love, 

Weak mortals, all entranc'd, on earth would lie, 
Nor listen for those purer strains above. 

Or what if Heaven for once its searching light 
Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all 

The rude bad thoughts, that in our bosom's night 
Wander at large, nor heed Love's gentle 
thrall? 

Who would not shun the dreary uncouth place ? 

As if, fond leaning where her infant slept, 
A mother's arm a serpent should embrace : 

So might we friendless live, and die unwept. 

Then keep the softening veil in mercy drawn. 
Thou who canst love us, tho' Thou read us 
true ; 

As on the bosom of th' aerial lawn 

Melts in dim haze each coarse ungentle hue. 

So too may soothing Hope Thy leave enjoy 
Sweet visions of long-sever'd hearts to frame : 

Though absence may impair, or cares annoy. 
Some constant mind may draw us still the 
same. 

We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro. 
Pine with regret, or sicken with despair, 



AFTER TRINITY. 239 

The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow, 
And with our memory wings her own fond 
prayer. 

bliss of child-like innocence, and love 
Tried to old age ! creative power to win, 

And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove, 
Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin. 

Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts 
are clear. 
Their memory cheering : but th' earth-stain'd 
spright. 
Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear. 
Must hover nearer earth, and less in light. 

Farewell, for her, th' ideal scenes so fair — 
Yet not farewell her hope, since Thou hast 
deign'd, 
Creator of all hearts ! to own and share 
The woe of what Thou mad'st, and we have 
stain'd. 

Thou know'st our bitterness — our joys are 
Thine^ — 

No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild : 
Nor could we bear to think, how every line 

Of us, Thy darken'd likeness and defil'd, 

1 Thou hast known my soul in adversities. — PsaZmxxxi. 7. 



240 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY. 

Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye, 
But that Thou call'st us Brethren: sweet 
repose 

Is in that word — the Lord who dwells on high 
Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows. 




OTtoentp^f ifti) J>untsap after €rimtp. 

The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it he found in ike way of 
righteousness. — Peoveebs xvi. 31. 

'HE bright-hair'd morn is glowing 
O'er emerald meadows gay, 
With many a clear gem strowing 
The early shepherd's way. 
Ye gentle elves, by Fancy seen 

Stealing away with night 
To slumber in your leafy screen, 
Tread more than airy light. 

And see what joyous greeting 

The sun through heaven has shed, 
Though fast yon shower be fleeting. 

His beams have faster sped. 
For lo ! above the western ha ze 

High towers the rainbow arch 
In solid span of purest rays : 

How stately is its march ! 

Pride of the dewy morning ! 

The swain's experienc'd eye 
From thee takes timely warning. 

Nor trusts the gorgeous sky. 
16 



242 TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY 

For well he knows, such dawnings gay 
Brmg noons of storm and shower, 

And travellers linger on the way 
Beside the sheltering bower. 

E'en so, in hope and trembhng 

Should watchful shepherd view 
His little lambs assembling, 

With glance both kind and true ; 
'T is not the eye of keenest blaze. 

Nor the quick-swelling breast, 
That soonest thrills at touch of praise - 

These do not please him best. 

But voices low and gentle. 

And timid glances shy, 
That seem for aid parental 

To sue all wistfully. 
Still pressing, longing to be right, 

Yet fearing to be wrong, — 
In these the Pastor dares delight, 

A lamb-like, Christ-like throng. 

These in Life's distant even 

Shall shine serenely bright. 
As in th' autumnal heaven 

Mild rainbow tints at night. 
When the last shower is steaHng down, 

And ere they sink to rest. 
The sunbeams weave a parting crown 

For some sweet woodland nest. 



AFTER TRINITY, 243 

The promise of the morrow 

Is glorious on that eve, 
Dear as the holy sorrow 

' When good men cease to live. 
When brightening ere it die away 

Mounts up their altar flame, 
Still tending with intenser ray 

To Heaven whence first it came. 

Say not it dies, that glory, 

'T is caught unquench'd on high. 
Those saint-like brows so hoary 

Shall wear it in the sky. 
No smile is like the smile of death, 

When all good musings past 
Rise wafted with the parting breath, 

The sweetest thought the last 




.iSunbap ttejct Before 5ll&toent. 

Gather' up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost. 

St. John vi. 12. 

'ILL God indeed with fragments bear, 
Snatch'd late from the decaying year ? 
Or can the Saviour's blood endear 
The dregs of a polluted life? 
When down th' o'erwhelming current tost, 
Just ere he sink forever lost. 
The sailor's untried arms are cross'd 
In agonizing prayer, will Ocean cease her strife 1 

Sighs that exhaust but not relieve. 
Heart-rending sighs, spare to heave 
A bosom freshly taught to grieve 

For lavish'd hours and love misspent ! 
Now through her round of holy thought 
The Church our annual steps has brought, 
But we no holy fire have caught — 
Back on the gaudy world our wilful eyes were 
bent. 

Too soon th' ennobling carrols, pour'd 
To hymn the birth-night of the Lord, 
Which duteous Memory should have stor'd 
For thankful echoing all the year — 



SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 245 

Too soon those airs have pass'd away ; 
Nor long within the heart would stay 
The silence of Christ's dying day, 
Profan'd by worldly mirth, or scar'd by worldly 
fear. 

Some strain of hope and victory 
On Easter wings might lift us high ; 
A little while we sought the sky : 

And when the Spirit's beacon-fires 
On every hill began to blaze. 
Lightening the world with glad amaze, 
Who but must kindle while they gaze ? 
But faster than she soars, our earth-bound Fancy 
tires. 

Nor yet for these, nor all the rites. 
By which our Mother's voice invites 
Our God to bless our home delights. 

And sweeten every secret tear : — 
The funeral dirge, the marriage vow. 
The hallow'd font where parents bow, 
And now elate and trembling now 
To the Eedeemer's feet their new-found treasures 
bear : — 

Not for the Pastor's gracious arm 
Stretch'd out to bless — a Christian charm 
To dull the shafts of worldly harm : — 
Nor, sweetest, holiest, best of all, 



246 SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT, 

For the dear feast of Jesus dying, 
Upon that altar ever lying, 
Where souls with sacred hunger sighing 
Are call'd to sit and eat, while angels prostrate 
fall : — 

No, not for each and all of these, 
Have our frail spirits found their ease. 
The gale that stirs th' autumnal trees 

Seems tun'd as truly to our hearts 
As when, twelve weary months ago, 
'T was moaning bleak, so high and low. 
You would have thought Remorse and Woe 
Had taught the innocent air their sadly thrilling 
parts. 

Is it, Christ's light is too divine. 

We dare not hope like Him to shine ? 

But see, around His dazzling shrine 

Earth's gems the fire of Heaven have 
caught ; 
Martyrs and saints — each glorious day 
Dawning in order on our way — 
Remind us, how our darksome clay 
May keep th' ethereal warmth our new Creator 
brought. 

These we have scorn'd, O false and frail ! 
And now once more th' appalling tale. 
How love divine may woo and fail, 

Of our lost year in Heaven is told — 



SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT. 247 

What if as far our life were past, 
Our weeks all number'd to the last, 
With time and hope behind us cast, 
And all our work to do with palsied hands and 
cold? 

watch and pray ere Advent dawn ! 
For thinner than the subtlest lawn 
'Twixt thee and death the veil is drawn. 
But Love too late can never glow : 
The scatter'd fragments Love can glean, 
Refine the dregs, and yield us clean 
To regions where one thought serene 
Breathes sweeter than whole years of sacrifice 
below. 




He first Jindeth Ms own brother Simon, and saith unto Mm, Wi 
have found the Messias . . . And he brought him to Jesus. 

St. John i. 41, 42. 

HEN brothers part for manhood's race, 
What gift may most endearing prove 
To keep fond memory in her place, 
And certify a brother's love ? 

'T is true, bright hours together told. 
And blissful dreams in secret shar'd, 

Serene or solemn, gay or bold. 
Shall last in fancy unimpair'd. 

E'en round the death-bed of the good 
Such dear remembrances will hover, 

And haunt us with no vexing mood 
When all the cares of earth are over. 

But yet our craving spirits feel. 

We shall live on, though Fancy die, 

And seek a surer pledge — a seal 
Of love to last eternally. 

Who art thou, that wouldst grave thy name 

Thus deeply in a brother's heart ? 
Look on this saint, and learn to frame 

Thy love-charm with true Christian art. 



ST. ANDREWS DAT. 249 

First seek thy Saviour out, and dwell 
Beneath the shadow of His roof, 

Till thou have scann'd His features well. 
And known Him for the Christ by proof ; 

Such proof as they are sure to find 
Who spend with Him their happy days, 

Clean hands, and a self-ruling mind 
Ever in tune for love and praise. 

Then, potent with the spell of Heaven, 
Go, and thine erring brother gain, 

Entice him home to be forgiven. 
Till he, too, see his Saviour plain. 

Or, if before thee in the race, 

Urge him with thine advancing tread, 

Till, like twin stars, with even pace. 
Each lucid course be duly sped. 

No fading frail memorial give 

To soothe his soul when thou art gone, 
But wreaths of hope for aye to live. 

And thoughts of good together done. 

That so, before the judgment-seat. 

Though chang'd and glorified each face, 

Not unremember'd ye may meet 
For endless ages to embrace. 




Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed: blessed 
are they that have not seen, and yet have believed. 

St. John xx. 29. 

E were not by when Jesus came,^ 
But round us, far and near, 
We see His trophies, and His name 
In choral echoes hear. 
In a fair ground our lot is cast. 
As in the solemn week that past. 
While some might doubt, but all ador'd,2 
Ere the whole widow'd Church had seen her 
risen Lord. 

Slowly, as then, His bounteous hand 

The golden chain unwinds. 
Drawing to Heaven with gentlest band 

Wise hearts and loving minds. 
Love sought Him first — at dawn of morn * 
From her sad couch she sprang forlorn, 

1 Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with 
them when Jesus came. — Si. John xx. 24. 

2 When they saw Him, they worshipped Him: but some 
doubted. — St. Matthew xxviii. 17. 

3 St. Maiy Magdalene's visit to the sepulchre. 



ST. THOMAS' DAT. 251 

She sought to weep with Thee alone, 
And saw Thine open grave, and knew that Thou 
wert gone. 

Reason and Faith at once set out ^ 

To search the Saviour's tomb ; 
Faith faster runs, but waits without, 

As fearing to presume, 
Till Reason enter in, and trace 
Christ's relics round the holy place 
" Here lay His limbs, and here His sacred 
head. 
And who was by, to make His new-forsaken 
bed?" 

Both wonder, one believes — but while 

They muse on all at home. 
No thought can tender Love beguile 

From Jesus' grave to roam. 
Weeping she stays till He appear — 
Her witness first the Church must hear — 
All joy to souls that can rejoice 
With her at earliest call of His dear gracious 
voice. 

Joy too to those, who love to talk 

In secret how He died, 
Though with seal'd eyes awhile they walk, 

Nor see Him at their side ; 
1 St. Peter and St. John. 



252 ST. THOMAS' DAT. 

Most like the faithful pair are they, 
Who once to Emmaus took their way, 
Half darkling, till their Master shed 
His glory on their souls, made known in break- 
ing bread. 

Thus, ever brighter and more bright, 

On those He came to save 
The Lord of new-created light 

Dawn'd gradual from the grave ; 
Till pass'd th' inquiring daylight hour. 
And with clos'd door in silent bower 
The Church in anxious musing sate, 
As one who for redemption still had long to 
wait. 

Then, gliding through th' unopening door. 

Smooth without step or sound, 
" Peace to your souls," He said — no more — 

They own Him, kneeling round. 
Eye, ear, and hand, and loving heart, 
Body and soul in every part, 
Successive made His witnesses that hour. 
Cease not in all the world to show His saving 
power. 

Is there, on earth, a spirit frail. 
Who fears to take their word, 

Scarce daring, through the twilight pale, 
To think he sees the Lord ? 



ST. THOMAS' BAY. 253 

With eyes too tremblingly awake 
To bear with dimness for His sake ? 
Read and confess the Hand Divine 
That drew thy likeness here so true in every 
line. 

For all thy rankling doubts so sore, 

Love thou thy Saviour still, 
Him for thy Lord and God adore. 

And ever do His will. 
Though vexing thoughts may seem to last, 
Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast ; — 
Soon will He show thee all His wounds, and 
say, 
" Long have I known thy name ^ — know thou 
My face alway." 

1 In Exodus xxxiii. 17, God says to Moses, " I know thee 
byname"; meaning, "I bear especial favor towards thee." 
Thus our Saviour speaks to St. Thomas by name in the place 
here referred to. 




€f)e Cottber^iott of S>u ^mh 

And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him^ 
Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me f And he said, Who art 
Thou, Lord. And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou per- 
secutest. — Acts ix. 4, 5. 

'HE mid-day sun, with fiercest glare, 
Broods o'er the hazy, twinkling air ; 
Along the level sand 
The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies, 
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise 
To greet yon wearied band. 

The leader of that martial crew 
Seems bent some mighty deed to do, 

So steadily he speeds. 
With lips firm clos'd and fixed eye, 
Like warrior when the fight is nigh, 

Nor talk nor landscape heeds. 

"What sudden blaze is round him pour'd, 
As though all Heaven's refulgent hoard 

In one rich glory shone ? 
One moment — and to earth he falls: 
What voice his inmost heart appalls ? — 

Voice heard by him alone. 



THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 255 

For to the rest both words and form 
Seem lost in lightning and in storm, 

While Saul, in wakeful trance, 
Sees deep within that dazzling field 
His persecuted Lord reveal'd 

With keen yet pitying glance : 

And hears the meek upbraiding call 
As gently on his spirit fe,ll, 

As if th' Almighty Son 
Were prisoner yet in this dark earth, 
Nor had proclaim'd His royal birth, 

Nor His great power begun. 

" Ah ! wherefore persecut'st thou Me ? " 
He heard and saw, and sought to free 

His strain'd eye from the sight : 
But Heaven's high magic bound it there. 
Still gazing, though untaught to bear 

Th' insufferable lisfht. 



& 



" Who art Thou, Lord ? " he falters forth : 
So shall Sin ask of heaven and earth 

At the last awful day. 
" When did we see Thee suffering nigh,' 
And pass'd Thee with unheeding eye ? 

Great God of judgment, say ! " 

Ah ! little dream our listless eyes 
What glorious presence they despise, 
1 St. Matthew xxv. 44. 



256 THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 

While, in our noon of life, 
To power or fame we rudely press. — 
Christ is at hand, to scorn or bless, 

Christ suffers in our strife. 

And though heaven-gate long since have clos'd. 
And our dear Lord in bliss repos'd 

High above mortal ken, 
To every ear in every land 
CThough meek ears only understand) 

He speaks as He did then. 

" Ah ! wherefore persecute ye Me ? 
'T is hard, ye so in love should be 

With your own endless woe. 
Know, though at God's right hand I live, 
I feel each wound ye reckless give 

To the least saint below. 

" I in your care My brethren left, 
Not willing ye should be bereft 

Of waiting on your Lord. 
The meanest offering ye can make — 
A drop of water — for love's sake,^ 

In Heaven, be sure, is stor'd." 

O by those gentle tones and dear, \ 

When Thou hast stay'd our wild career, '[ 

Thou only hope of souls, \ 

1 St. Matthew x. 42. I 

I 



I 



THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 257 



Ne'er let us cast one look behind, 
But in the thought of Jesus find 
What every thought controls. 



As to Thy last Apostle's heart 

Thy lightning glance did then impart 

Zeal's never-dying fire, 
So teach us on Thy shrine to lay 
Our hearts, and let them day by day 

Intenser blaze and higher. 

And as each mild and winning note 
(Like pulses that round harp-strings float 

When the full strain is o'er) 
Left lingering on his inward ear 
Music, that taught, as death drew near, 

Love's lesson more and more : 

So, as we walk our earthly round. 
Still may the echo of that sound 

Be in our memory stor'd : 
" Christians ! behold your happy state : 
Christ is in these, who round you wait ; 

Make much of your dear Lord ! " 
17 




€1)0 purification* 

Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see Go'J. 

St. Matthew v. 8. 

LESS'D are the pure in heart, 
For they shall see our God, 
The secret of the Lord is theirs, 
Their soul is Christ's abode. 

Might mortal thought presume 
To guess an angel's lay, 
Such are the notes that echo through 
The courts of Heaven to-day. 

Such the triumphal hymns 
On Sion's Prince that wait. 
In high procession passing on 
Towards His temple-gate. 

Give ear, ye kings — bow down. 
Ye rulers of the earth — 
This, this is He ; your Priest by grace, 
Your God and King by birth. 

No pomp of earthly guards 
Attends with sword and spear, 
And all-defying, dauntless look. 
Their monarch's way to clear ; 



TEE PURIFICATION. 259 

Yet are there more with Him 
Than all that are with you — 
The armies of the highest Heaven, 
All righteous, good, and true. 

Spotless their robes and pure, 
Dipp'd in the sea of light, 
That hides the unapproached shrine 
From men's and angels' sight. 

His throne, thy bosom blest, 
O Mother undefil'd — 
That throne, if aught beneath the skies, 
Beseems the sinless child. 

Lost in high thoughts, " whose son 
The wondrous Babe might prove," 
Her guileless husband walks beside, 
Bearing the hallow'd dove ; 

Meet emblem of His vow. 
Who, on this happy day. 
His dove-like soul — best sacrifice — 
Did on God's altar lay. 

But who is he, by years 
Bow'd, but erect in heart. 
Whose prayers are struggling with his tears ? 
" Lord, let me now depart. 



260 THE PURIFICATION. 

" Now hath Thy servant seen 
Thy saving health, O Lord ; 
'T is time that I depart in peace, 
According to Thy word." 

Yet swells the pomp : one more 
Comes forth to bless her God : 
• Full fourscore years, meek widow, she 
Her heavenward way hath trod. 

She who to earthly joys 
So long hath given farewell, 
Now sees, unlook'd for. Heaven on earth, 
Christ in His Israel. 

Wide open from that hour 
The temple-gates are set. 
And still the saints rejoicing there 
The holy Child have met. 

Now count His train to-day, 
And who may meet Him, learn : 
Him child-like sires, meek maidens find, 
Where pride can nought discern. 

Still to the lowly soul 
He doth Himself impart, 
And for His cradle and His throne 
Chooseth the pure in heart. 




Wherefore of these men which have companied with us all the 
time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning 
from the baptism of John, unto that same day that He was 
taken up from us, must one be ordained to be a witness with us 
of His resurrection. — Acts i. 21, 22. 

^HO is God's chosen priest ? 
He, who on Christ stands waiting day 
and night, 

Who trac'd Hjs holy steps, nor ever ceas'd. 
From Jordan banks to Bethphage height : 

"Who hath learn'd lowliness 
From his Lord's cradle, patience from His 

Cross ; 
Whom poor men's eyes and hearts consent to 
bless ; 
To whom, for Christ, the world is loss ; 

Who both in agony 
Hath seen Him and in glory ; and in both 
Own'd Him divine, and yielded, nothing loth, 
Body and soul, to live and die, 

4 

In witness of his Lord, 
In humble following of his Saviour dear : 



262 ST. MATTHIAS' DAT. 

This is the man to wield th' unearthly sword, 
Warring unharm'd with sin and fear. 

But who can e'er suffice — 
What mortal — for this more than angels' task, 
Winning or losing souls, Thy life-blood's price ? 
The gift were too divine to ask, 

But Thou hast made it sure 
By Thy dear promise to Thy Church and Bride, 
That Thou, on earth, wouldst aye with her en- 
dure, 
Till earth to Heaven be purified. 

Thou art her only spouse. 
Whose arm supports her, on Whose faithful 

breast 
Her persecuted head she meekly bows, 
Sure pledge of her eternal rest. 

Thou, her unerring guide, 
Stayest her fainting steps along the wild ; 
Thy mark is on the bowers of lust and pride, 
That she may pass them undefil'd. 

Who then, uncall'd by Thee, 
Dare touch Thy spouse, Thy very self be- 
low? 
Or who dare count him summon'd worthily. 
Except Thine hand and seal he show ? 



ST. MATTHIAS' DAT. 263 

Where can Thy seal be found, 
But on the chosen seed, from age to age 
By Thine anointed heralds duly crown'd. 
As kings and priests Thy war to wage ? 

Then fearless walk we forth, 
Yet full of trembling. Messengers of God : 
Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth, 
By our own shame alike and glory aw'd. 

Dread Searcher of the hearts, 
Thou who didst seal by Thy descending Dove 
Thy servant's choice, O help us in our parts. 
Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy 
love. 




€f|e Slnnunciation of tfte 25fe^^^ 

Virgin ^atp. 

And the Angel came in unto Tier, and said, Hail, thou that art 
highly favored, the Lord is with thee : blessed art thou among 
women. — St. Luke i. 28. 

|H ! Thou who deign'st to sympathize 
With all our frail and fleshly ties, 
Maker yet Brother dear, 
Forgive the too presumptuous thought. 
If, calming wayward grief, I sought 
To gaze on Thee too near. 

Yet sure 't was not presumption, Lord, 
'Twas Thine own comfortable word 

That made the lesson known : 
Of all the dearest bonds we prove. 
Thou countest sons' and mothers' love 

Most sacred, most Thine own. 

When wandering here a little span, 
Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man, 

Thou hadst no earthly sire : 
That wedded love we prize so dear. 
As if our heaven and home were here, 

It lit in Thee no fire. 



THE ANNUNCIATION. . 2(;o 

On no sweet sister's faithful breast 
Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest, 

On no kind brother lean : 
But who, O perfect filial heart, 
E'er did like Thee a true son's part 

Endearing, firm, serene ? 

Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild, 
Thou wept'st upon thy sinless Child, 

Thy very heart was riven : 
And yet, what mourning matron here 
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear 

By all on this side Heaven ? 

A Son that never did amiss. 

That never sham'd His Mother's kiss, 

Nor cross'd her fondest prayer : 
E'en from the tree He deign'd to bow 
For her His agonized brow. 

Her, His sole earthly care. 

Ave Maria ! blessed Maid ! 
Lily of Eden's fragrant shade. 

Who can express the love 
That nurtur'd thee so pure and sweet, 
Making thy heart a shelter meet 

For Jesus' holy Dove ? 

Ave Maria ! Mother blest. 

To whom caressing and caress'd, 



266 THE ANNUNCIATION, 

Clings the Eternal Child ; 
Favor'd beyond Archangels' dream, 
When first on thee with tenderest gleam 

Thy new-born Saviour smil'd : — 

Ave Maria ! thou whose name 
All but adoring love may claim, 

Yet may we reach thy shrine ; 
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows 
To crown all lowly lofty brows 

With love and joy like thine. 

Bless'd is the womb that bare Him — bless'd ^ 
The bosom where His lips were press'd. 

But rather bless'd are they 
Who hear His word and keep it well. 
The living homes where Christ shall dwell, 

And never pass away. 

1 St. Luke xi. 27, 28. 



^t ^atW$ 2Dap* 




And the contention was so sharp between them, that they departed 

asunder one from the other. — Acts xv. 39. 

Compare 2 Timothy iv. 11. Tahe MarTc, and bring him vMh 

thee : for he is projitdble to me for the ministry. 

;H ! who shall dare in this frail scene 
jfl On holiest happiest thoughts to lean, 

On Friendship, Kindred, or on 
Love ? 
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp 
Each other in so firm a grasp. 

But they shall change and variance prove. 

Yet deem not, on such parting sad 
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad : 

Divided in their earthly race, 
Together at the glorious goal. 
Each leading many a rescu'd soul, 

The faithful champions shall embrace. 

For e'en as those mysterious Four, 
Who the bright whirling wheels upbore 
By Chebar in the fiery blast,^ 

1 They turned not when they went ; they went every one 
straightforward. — EzeTciel i. 9. 



.268 ST. MARK'S DAY. 

So, on their tasks of love and praise 
The saints of God their several ways 
Right onward speed, yet join at last. 

And sometimes e'en beneath the moon 
The Saviour gives a gracious boon, 

When reconciled Christians meet. 
And face to face, and heart to heart, 
High thoughts of holy love impart 

In silence meek, or converse sweet. 

Companion of the Saints ! 't was thine 
To taste that drop of peace divine. 

When the great soldier of thy Lord 
Call'd thee to take his last farewell, 
Teaching the Church with joy to tell 

The story of your love restor'd. 

then the glory and the bliss. 
When all that pain'd or seem'd amiss 

Shall melt with earth and 'sin away ! 
When saints beneath their Saviour's eye, 
Fill'd with each other's company. 

Shall spend in love th' eternal day ! 



Let the brother of Imo degree rejoice in that he is exalted : but 
the rich, in that he is made low. — St. James^I. 9, 10. 



f^^EAE, is the morning gale of spring, 
And dear th' autumnal eve ; 
But few delights can summer bring 
A Poet's crown to weave. 



Her bowers are mute, her fountains dry, 

And ever Fancy's wing 
Speeds from beneath her cloudless sky 

To autumn or to spring. 

Sweet is the infant's waking smile, 
And sweet the old man's rest — 

But middle age by no fond wile. 
No soothing calm is blest. 

Still in the world's hot restless gleam 

She plies her weary task, 
While vainly for some pleasant dream 

Her wandering glances ask. 

O shame upon thee, listless heart, 
So sad a sigh to heave. 



270 ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES. 

As if thy Saviour had no part 

In thoughts, that make thee grieve. 

As if along His lonesome way- 
He had not borne for thee 

Sad languors through the summer day, 
Storms on the wintry sea. 

Youth's lightning-flash of joy secure 
Pass'd seldom o'er His spright, — 

A well of serious thought and pure, 
Too deep for earthly light. 

No spring was His — no fairy gleam — 

For He by trial knew 
How cold and bare what mortals dream, 

To worlds where all is true. 

Then grudge not thou the anguish keen 
Which makes thee like thy Lord, 

And learn to quit with eye serene 
Thy youth's ideal hoard. 

Thy treasur'd hopes and raptures high — 
Unmurmuring let them go, 

Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly 
Which Christ disdain'd to know. 

Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon ; 
The pure, calm hope be thine, 



ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES. 271 

Which brightens, like the eastern moon, 
As day's wild lights decline. 

Thus souls, by nature pitch'd too high, 

By sufferings plung'd too low, 
Meet in the Church's middle sky, 

Half way 'twixt joy and woe, 

To practise there the soothing lay 

That sorrow best relieves : 
Thankful for all God takes away, 

Humbled by all He gives. 




The son of consolation, a Levite. — Acts iv. 36. 

'HE world 's a room of sickness, where 
each heart 
Knows its own anguish and unrest ; 
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, 

Is his, who skills of comfort best ; 
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone 
Enfeebled spirits own, 
And love to raise the languid eye, 
When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleet- 
ing by : — 

Feel only — for in silence gently gliding 

Fain would he shun both ear and sight, 
'Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart 
dividing, 
A nursing-father day and night. 
Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay, 
In her sweet natal day 
The Church of Jesus ; such the love 
He to His chosen taught for His dear widow'd 
Dove. 



ST. BARNABAS. 273 

Warm'd underneath the Comforter's safe wing 
They spread th' endearing warmth around : 
MoTirners, speed here your broken hearts to 
bring, 
Here healing dews and balms abound : 
Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain, 
By trial taught your pain : 
Here loving hearts, that daily know 
The heavenly consolations they on you bestow. 

Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe 
serenest calms, 
Of holy offerings timely paid,^ 
Of fire from Heaven to bless their votive alms 

And passions on God's altar laid. 
The world to them is clos'd, and now they shine 
With rays of love divine. 
Through darkest nooks of this dull earth 
Pouring, in showery times, their glow of " quiet 
mirth." 

New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay. 
This is their first, their dearest joy : 

Their next, from heart to heart to clear the 
way^ 
For mutual love without alloy : 

1 Having land, sold it, and brought the money, and laid it 
at the Apostles' feet. — Acts iv. 37. 

2 Barnabas took him, and brought him (Saul) to the Apos- 
tles. — Acts ix. 27. 

18 



274 ST. BARNABAS. 

Never so blest, as when in Jesus' roll 
They write some hero-soul, 
More pleas'd upon his brightening road 
To wait, than if their own with all his radiance 
glow'd. 

O happy spirits, mark'd by God and man 

Their messages of love to bear,^ 
What though long since in Heaven your 
brows began 
The genial amaranth wreath to wear, 
And in th' eternal leisure of calm love 
Ye banquet there above, 
Yet in your sympathetic heart 
We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a 
part. 

Comfort's true sons ! amid the thoughts of down 

That strew your pillow of repose. 
Sure, 'tis one joy to muse, how ye unknown 
By sweet remembrance soothe our woes. 
And how the spark ye lit, of heavenly cheer, 
Lives in our embers here. 
Where'er the Cross is borne with smiles, 
Or lighten'd secretly by Love's endearing wiles ; 

Where'er one Levite in the temple keeps 
The watch-fire of his midnight prayer, 

Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps 
In heavenly balm, fresh gather'd there ; 
1 Acts xi. 22 ; xiii. 2. 



ST. BARNABAS. 275 

Thus saints, that seem to die in earth's rude 
strife, 
Only win double life : 
They have but left our weary ways 
To live in memory here, in Heaven by love and 
praise. 




Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of 
the great and dreadful day of the Lord : and he shall turn the 
heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the chil- 
dren to their fathers. — Malachi iv. 5, 6. 

fWICE in her season of decay 
The fallen Church hath felt Elijah's eye 
Dart from the wild its piercing ray : 
Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky, 
The herald star, 
Wliose torch afar 
Shadows and boding night-birds fly. 

Methinks we need him once again. 
That favor'd seer — but where shall he be 
found ? 
By Cherith's side we seek in vain, 
In vain on Carmel's green and lonely mound : 
Angels no more 
From Sinai soar, 
On his celestial errands bound. 

But wafted to her glorious place 
By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones. 

His spirit with a dear embrace 
Thee the lov'd harbinger of Jesus owns, 



ST. JOHN BAPTISTS DAY. 277 

"Well pleas'd to view 
Her likeness true, 
And trace, in thine, her own deep tones. 

Deathless himself, he joys with thee 
To commune how a faithful martyr dies, 

And in the blest could envy be, 
He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes, 
Star of our morn, 
Who yet unborn ^ 
Didst guide our hope, where Christ should 
rise. 

Now resting from your jealous care 
For sinner, such as Eden cannot know, 

Ye pour for us your mingled prayer, 
No anxious fear to damp Affection's glow. 
Love draws a cloud 
From you to shroud 
Rebellion's mystery here below. 

And since we see, and not afar, 
The twilight of the great and dreadful day, 

Why linger, till Elijah's car 
Stoop from the clouds ? Why sleep ye ? rise and 
pray. 
Ye heralds seal'd 
In camp or field 
Your Saviour's banner to display. 
1 The Babe leaped in my womb for joy. — St. Luke i. 44. 



278 ST. JOHN BAPTISTS DAY. 

Where is the lore the Baptist taught, 
The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue? 

The much-enduring wisdom, sought 
By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among ? 
Who counts it gain ^ 
His light should wane, 
So the whole world to Jesus throng ? 

Thou Spirit, who the Church didst lend 
Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild,^ 

We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend. 
With flames like these, all bright and undefil'd, 
Her watch-fires light, 
To guide aright 
Our weary souls, by earth beguil'd. 

So glorious let Thy Pastors shine. 
That by their speaking lives the world may 
learn 
First filial duty, then divine,^ 
That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn ; 
And ready prove 
In fires of love. 
At sight of Thee, for aye to burn. 

1 He must increase, but I must decrease. — St. John a. 30. 

2 Revelations xii. 14. 

8 He shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and 
the heart of the children to their fathers. — Malachi iv. 6. 

To turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the 
disobedient to the wisdom of the just ; to make ready a people 
prepared for the Lord. — Si. Luke i. 17. 



M* ^eterV Jl^ap. 




When Herod icould have brought him forth, the same night 
Peter was sleeping. — Acts xii. 6. 

^HOU thrice denied, yet thrice belov'd,^ 
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend ; 
In sharpest perils faithful prov'd, 
Let his soul love Thee to the end. 

The prayer is heard — else why so deep 
His slumber on the eve of death ? 

And wherefore smiles he in his sleep 
As one who drew celestial breath ? 

He loves and is belov'd again — 
Can his soul choose but be at rest ? 

Sorrow hath fled away, and Pain 
Dares not invade the guarded nest. 

He dearly loves, and not alone : 

For his wing'd thoughts are soaring high 

Where never yet frail heart was known 
To breathe in vain Affection's sigh. 

1 St. John xxi. 15-17. 



280 ST. PETER'S BAT. 

He loves and weeps — but more than tears 
Have seal'd Thy welcome and his love — 

One look lives in him, and endears 
Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove : 

That gracious chiding look,^ Thy call 
To win him to himself and Thee, 

Sweetening the sorrow of his fall 
Which else were rued too bitterly. 

E'en through the veil of sleep it shines, 
The memory of that kindly glance ; — 

The Angel watching by, divines 

And spares awhile his blissful trance. 

Or haply to his native lake 

His vision wafts him back, to talk 

With Jesus, ere his flight he take. 
As in that solemn evening walk, 

When to the bosom of his friend, 

The Shepherd, He whose name is Good, 

Did His dear lambs and sheep commend, 
Both bought and nourish'd with His blood 

Then laid on him th' inverted tree, 

Which firm embrac'd with heart and arm, 

Might cast o'er hope and memory, 
O'er life and death, its awful charm. 
1 St. Luke xxii. 61. 



ST. FE TEE'S DAT. 281 

With brightening heart he bears it on, 
His passport through th' eternal gates, 

To his sweet home — so nearly won, 
He seems, as by the door he waits, 

The imexpressive notes to hear 
Of angel song and angel motion. 

Rising and falling on the ear 

Like waves in Joy's mibounded ocean. 

His dream is chang'd — the Tyrant's voice 
Calls to that last of glorious deeds — 

But as he rises to rejoice, 
Not Herod but an Angel leads. 

He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright, 
Glancing around his prison-room — 

But 't is a gleam of heavenly light 
That fills up all the ample gloom. 

The flame, that in a few short years 

Deep through the chambers of the dead 

Shall pierce, and dry the fount of tears. 
Is waving o'er his dungeon-bed. 

Touch'd he upstarts — his chains unbind — 
Through darksome vault, up massy stair, 

His dizzy, doubting footsteps wind 
To freedom and cool moonlight air. 



282 ST. PETERS DAY. 

Then all himself, all joy and calm, 
Though for awhile his hand forego, 

Just as it touch'd, the martyr's pahn. 
He turns liim to his task below ; 

The pastoral staff, the keys of Heaven, 
To wield a while in gray-hair' d might, 

Then from his cross to spring forgiven, 
And follow Jesus out of sight. 




Ye shall drinh indeed of My cwp, and be baptized with the bap- 
tism that I am baptized with: but to sit on My i^ight hand, and 
on My left, is not Mine to give, hut it shall be given to themjor 
whom it is prepared of My Father. — St. Matthew xx. 23, 

JIT down and take thy fill of joy 

At God's right hand, a bidden guest, 
Drink of the cup that cannot cloy, 
Eat of the bread that cannot waste. 
O great Apostle ! rightly now 

Thou readest all thy Saviour meant, 
What time His grave yet gentle brow 
In sweet reproof on thee was bent. 

" Seek ye to sit enthron'd by Me ? 

Alas ! ye know not what ye ask, 
The first in shame and agony, 

The lowest in the meanest task — 
This can ye be ? and can ye drink 

The cup that I in tears must steep, 
Nor from the 'whelming waters shrink 

That o'er Me roll so dark and deep ? " 



284 ST. JAMES'S DAT. 

" We can — Thine are we, dearest Lord, 

In glory and in agony, 
To do and suffer all Thy word ; 

Only be Thou forever nigh." 
" Then be it so — My cup receive, 

And of My woes baptismal taste : 
I kit for the crown, that angels weave 

For those next Me in glory plac'd, 

" I give it not by partial love ; 

But in My Father's book are writ 
What names on earth shall lowliest prove, 

That they in Heaven may highest sit." 
Take up the lesson, my heart ; 

Thou Lord of meekness, write it there, 
Thine own meek self to me impart. 

Thy lofty hope. Thy lowly prayer : 

If ever on the mount with Thee 

I seem to soar in vision bright, 
With thoughts of coming agony,^ 

Stay Thou the too presumptuous flight : 
Gently along the vale of tears 

Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep, 
Let me not grudge a few short years 

With Thee tow'rd Heaven to walk and 
weep : 

1 St. Matthew xvii. 12. " Likewise shall also the Son of 
Man suffer of them." This was just after the Transfigura- 
tion. 



• ST. JAMES'S DAT. 285 

Too happy, on my silent path, 

If now and then allow'd, with Tliee 
Watching some placid holy death, 

Thy secret work of love to see ; 
But oh, most happy, should Thy call, 

Thy welcome call, at last be given — 
" Come where thou long hast stored thy all, 

Come see thy place prepar'd in Heaven." 




S>u 25attt)oloittclD* 

Testis answered and said unto him, Because I said unto thee^ 
I saw thee under the Jig-tree, believest thou ? thou shali see 
greater things than these. — St. John i. 50. 

OLD up thy mirror to the sun, 

And thou shalt need an eagle's gaze, 
So perfectly the polish'd stone 
Gives back the glory of his rays : 

Turn it, and it shall paint as true 
The soft green of the vernal earth, 

And each small flower of bashful hue, 
That closest hides its lowly birth. 

Our mirror is a blessed book, 

Where out from each illumin'd page 

We see one glorious Image look 
All eyes to dazzle and engage, 

The Son of God : and that indeed 

We see Him as He is, we know, 
Since in the same bright glass we read 

The very life of things below. 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 287 

Eye of God's word ! ^ where'er we turn 

Ever upon us ! thy keen gaze 
Can all the depths of sin discern, 

Unravel every bosom's maze : 

Who that has felt thy glance of dread 
Thrill through his heart's remotest cells, 

About his path, about his bed, 

Can doubt what spirit in thee dwells ? 

" What word is this ? Whence know'st thou me ? '* 
All wondering cries the humbled heart, 

To hear thee that deep mystery, 
The knowledge of itself, impart. 

The veil is rais'd ; who runs may read, 

By its own light the truth is seen, 
And soon the Israelite indeed 

Bows down t' adore the Nazarene. 

So did Nathanael, guileless man, 
At once, not shame-fac'd or afraid, 

1 " The position before lis is, that we ourselves, and such 
as we, are the very persons whom Scripture speaks of, and 
to whom, as men, in every variety of persuasive form, it 
makes its condescending though celestial appeal. The point 
worthy of observation is, to note how a book of the descrip- 
tion and the compass which we have represented Scripture to 
be, possesses this versatility of power; this eye. like that of a 
portrait, uniformly fixed upon us, turn where we will.'''' — Mil- 
ler's Bampton Lectures, p. 128. 



288 ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 

Owning Him God, who so could scan 
His musings in the lonely shade ; 

In his own pleasant fig-tree's shade, 
Which by his household fountain grew, 

Where at noonday his prayer he made 
To know God better than he knew. 

Oh happy hours of heavenward thought ! 

How richly crown'd ! how well improv'd ! 
In musing o'er the Law he taught. 

In waiting for the Lord he lov'd. 

We must not mar with earthly praise 

Wliat God's approving word hath seal'd ; 

Enough, if right our feeble lays 
Take up the promise He reveal'd ; 

" The childlike faith, that asks not sight, 
Waits not for wonder or for sign, 

Believes, because it loves, aright — 
Shall see things greater, things divine. 

" Heaven to that gaze shall open wide, 
And brightest angels to and fro 

On messages of love shall glide 

'Twixt God above and Christ below." 

So still the guileless man is blest. 

To him all crooked paths are straight, 



ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 289 

Him on his way to endless rest 
Fresh, ever-growing strengths await.^ 

God's witnesses, a glorious host, 
Compass him daily like a cloud ; 

Martyrs and seers, the sav'd and lost, 
Mercies and judgments cry aloud. 

Yet shall to him the still small voice, 
■ That first into his bosom found 
A way, and fix'd his wavering choice, 
Nearest and dearest ever sound. 

A They go from strength to strength. — Psalm Ixxxiv. 7. 
IS 




And after these things He went forth, and saw a publican, 
named Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom : and He said unto 
him, Follow Me. And he left all, rose up, and followed Him. 

St. Luke v. 27, 28. 

=E hermits blest, ye holy maids, 
The nearest Heaven on earth, 
Who talk with God in shadowy glades, 
Free from rude care and mirth ; 
To whom some viewless teacher brings 
The secret lore of rural things, 
The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale, 
The whispers from above, that haunt the twi- 
light vale : 

Say, when in pity ye have gaz'd 

On the wreath'd smoke afar. 
That o'er some town, like mist uprais'd, 

Hung hiding sun and star, 
Then as ye turn'd your weary eye 
To the green earth and open sky, 
Were ye not fain to doubt how Faith could 
dwell 
Amid that dreary glare, in this world's citadel ? 



ST. MATTEEW. 291 

But Love's a flower that will not die 

For lack of leafy screen, 
And Christian Hope can cheer the eye 

That ne'er saw vernal green ; 
Then be ye sure that Love can bless 
E'en in this crowded loneliness, 
Where ever-moving myriads seem to say, 
Go — thou art nought to us, nor we to thee — ■ 
away ! 

There are in this loud stunning tide 

Of human care and crime, 
With whom the melodies abide 

Of th' everlasting; chime ; 
Who carry music in their heart 
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, 
Plying their daily task with busier feet. 
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat. 

How sweet to them, in such brief rest 

As thronging cares afford. 
In thought to wander, fancy-blest, 
To where their gracious Lord, 
In vain, to win proud Pharisees, 
Spake, and was heard by fell disease * — 
But not in vain, beside yon breezy lake. 
Bade the meek Publican his gainful seat forsake : 

1 It seems from St. Matthew ix. 8, 9, that the calling of 
Levi took place immediately after the healing of the paralytic 
in the presence of the Pharisees. 



292 ST. MATTHEW. 

At once he rose, and left his gold ; 

His treasure and his heart 
Transferred, where he shall safe behold 

Earth and her idols part ; 
While he beside his endless store 
Shall sit, and floods unceasing pour 
Of Christ's true riches o'er all time and space. 
First angel of His Church, first steward of His 
Grace. 

Nor can ye not delight to think ^ 

Where He vouchsaf d to eat. 
How the Most Holy did not shrink 

From touch of sinner's meat ; 
What worldly hearts and hearts unpure 
Went with Him through the rich man's door, 
That we might learn of Him lost souls to love, 
And view His least and worst with hope to meet 
above. 

These gracious lines shed Gospel light 

On Mammon's gloomiest cells, 
As on some city's cheerless night 

The tide of sunrise swells, 
Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud 
Are mantled with a golden cloud. 
And to wise hearts this certain hope is given ; 
** No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye 
of Heaven." 

1 St. Matthew ix. 10. 



ST. MATTHEW. 293 

And oh ! if e'en on Babel shine 

Such gleams of Paradise, 
Should not their peace be peace divine, 

Who day by day arise 
To look on clearer heavens and scan 
The work of God untouch'd by man ? 
Shame on us, who about us Babel bear, 
And live in Paradise, as if God was not there I 




Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for 
them who shall be heirs of salvation ?— Hebrews i. 14. 

'E stars that round the Sun of righteous- 
ness 
In glorious order roll, 
With harps forever strung, ready to bless 

God for each rescued soul, 
Ye eagle spirits, that build in light divine, 

Oh ! think of us to-day, 
Faint warblers of this earth, that would com- 
bine 
Our trembling notes with your accepted lay. 

Your amaranth wreaths were earn'd ; and home- 
ward all, 

Flush'd with victorious might. 
Ye might have sped to keep high festival. 

And revel in the light ; 
But meeting us, weak worldlings, on our way, 

Tired ere the fight begun, 
Ye turn'd to help us in th' unequal fray, 
Remembering Whose we were, how dearly won : 



ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 295 

Remembering Bethlehem, and that glorious night 

When ye, who used to soar 
Diverse along all space in fiery flight, 

Came thronging to adore 
Your God new-born, and made a sinner's child ; 

As if the stars should leave 
Their stations in the far ethereal wild, 
And round the sun a radiant circle weave. 

Nor less your lay of triumph greeted fair 
Our Champion and your King, 

In that first strife, whence Satan in despair 
Sunk down on scathed wing : 

Alone He fasted, and alone He fought ; 
But when His toils were o'er, 

Ye to the sacred Hermit duteous brought 

Banquet and hymn, your Eden's festal store. 

Ye too, when lowest in th' abyss of woe 
He plung'd to save His sheep. 

Were leaning from your golden thrones to know 
The secrets of that deep : 

But clouds were on His sorrow : one alone 
His agonizing call 

Summon'd from Heaven, to still that bitterest 
groan. 

And comfort Him, the Comforter of all. 

Oh ! highest favor'd of all Spirits create, 
(If right of thee we deem) 



296 ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 

How didst thou glide on brightening wing elate 

To meet th' unclouded beam 
Of Jesus from the couch of darkness rising ! 

How swell'd thine anthem's sound, 
With fear and mightier joy weak hearts surpris- 
ing, 
" Your God is risen, and may not here be found ! " 

Pass a few days, and this dull darkling globe 
Must yield Him from her sight ; — 

Brighter and brighter streams His glory-robe, 
And He is lost in light. 

Then, when through yonder everlasting arch, 
Ye in innumerous choir 

Pour'd, heralding Messiah's conquering march, 

Linger'd around His skirts two forms of fire : 

With us they stay'd, high warning to impart ; 

" The Christ shall come again 
E'en as He goes ; with the same hmnan heart, 

With the same Godlike train." 
Oh ! jealous God ! how could a sinner dare 

Think on that dreadful day, 
But that with all Thy wounds Thou wilt be 

there. 
And all our angel friends to bring Thee on Thy 
way? 

Since to Thy little ones is given such grace, 
That they who nearest stand 



ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS. 297 

Alway to God in Heaven, and see His face, 

Go forth at His command, 
To wait around our path in weal or woe, 

As erst upon our King, 
Set Thy baptismal seal upon our brow, 
And waft us heavenward with enfolding wing : 

Grant, Lord, that when around th' expiring 
world 

Our seraph guardians wait, 
While on her death-bed, ere to ruin hurl'd. 

She owns Thee, all too late. 
They to their charge may turn, and thankful see 

Thy mark upon us still ; 
Then all together rise, and reign with Thee, 
And all their holy joy o'er contrite hearts fulfil I 




^t 3tufee* 

Lnike^ the beloved physician^ and Demas, greet you. 

COLOSSIANS iv. 14. 

Demas hath forsaken me^having loved this present world. . , 
Only Luke is with me. — 2 Timothy iv. 10, 11. 

WO clouds before the summer gale 
In equal race fleet o'er the sky : 
Two flowers, when wintry blasts assail, 
-Together pine, together die. 

But two capricious human hearts — 
No sage's rod may track their ways, 

No eye pursue their lawless starts 
Along their wild self-chosen maze. 

He only, by whose sovereign hand 

E'en sinners for the evil day ^ 
Were made — who rules the world He plann'd, 

Turning our worst His own good way ; 

He only can the cause reveal, 

Why, at the same fond bosom fed, 

1 The Lord hath made all things for Himself: yea, even 
the wicked for the day of evil. — Proverbs xvi. 4. 



ST. LUKE. 299 

Taught in the self-same lap to kneel 
Till the same prayer were duly said, 

Brothers in blood and nurture too, 
Aliens in heart so oft should prove ; 

One lose, the other keep. Heaven's clue ; 
One dwell in wrath, and one in love. 

He only knows, — for He can read 
The mystery of the wicked heart, — 

Why vainly oft our arrows speed 
When aim'd with most unerring art ; 

While from some rude and powerless arm 

' A random shaft in season sent 
Shall light upon some lurking harm. 
And work some wonder little meant. 

Doubt we, how souls so wanton change, 
Leaving their own experienc'd rest ? 

Need not around the world to range ; 
One narrow cell may teach us best. 

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint 
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain ; 

No fear lest he should swerve or faint ; 
" His life is Christ, his death is gain." ^ 

Two converts, watching by his side, 
Alike his love and greetings share ; 

1 Philippians i. 21. 



300 ST. LUKE. 

Luke the belov'd, the sick souFs guide, 
And Demas, nam'd in faltering prayer. 

Pass a few years — look in once more — 

The saint is in his bonds again ; 
Save that his hopes more boldly soar,^ 

He and his lot unchang'd remain. 

But only Luke is with him now : — 
Alas ! that e'en the martyr's cell, 

Heaven's very gate, should scope allow 
For the false world's seducing spell. 

'T is sad — but yet 't is well, be sure, 
We on the sight should muse awhile, 

Nor deem our shelter all secure 
E'en in the Church's holiest aisle. 

Vainly before the shrine he bends, 

Who knows not the true pilgrim's part : 

The martyr's cell no safety lends 

To him, who wants the martyr's heart 

But if there be, who follows Paul 
As Paul his Lord, in life and death, 

Where'er an aching heart may call, 
Ready to speed and take no breath ; 

1 In the Epistle to the Philippians, " I know that I shall 
abide and continue with you all : ... I count not myself to 
have apprehended. — Chap. i. 25 ; iii. 13. 

In 2 Timothy, " I have finished my course," &c. — Chap, 
iv. 7, 8. 



ST. LUKE, 301 

Whose joy is, to the wandering sheep 
To tell of the great Shepherd's love ; * 

To learn of mourners while they weep 
The music that makes mirth above ; 

Who makes the Saviour all his theme, 
The Gospel all his pride and praise — 

Approach : for thou canst feel the gleam 
That round the martyr's death-bed plays : 

Thou hast an ear for angels' songs, 
A breath the Gospel trump to fill, 

And taught by thee the Church prolongs 
Her hynms of high thanksgiving still.^ 

Ah ! dearest mother, since too oft 
The world yet wins some Demas frail 

E'en from thine arms, so kind and soft, 
May thy tried comforts never fail ! 

WTien faithless ones forsake thy wing. 
Be it vouchsaf d thee still to see 

Thy true, fond nurslings closer cling. 
Cling closer to their Lord and thee. 

1 The Gospel of St. Luke abounds most in such passages as 
the parable of the lost sheep, which display God's mercy to 
penitant sinners. 

2 The Christian hymns are all in St. Luke : the Magnificat, 
Benedictus, and Nunc Dimittis. 




That ye should earnestly contend for'^ the faith which was once 
delivered unto the saints. — St. Jude 3. 

EEST thou, how tearful and alone, 

And drooping like a wounded dove, 
The Cross in sight, but Jesus gone, 
The widow'd Church is fain to rove ? 

Who is at hand that loves the Lord ? ^ 

Make haste, and take her home, and bring 

Thine household choir, in true accord 
Their soothing hymns for her to sing. 

Soft on her fluttering heart shall breathe 

The fragrance of that genial isle. 
There she may weave her funeral-wreath, 

And to her own sad music smile. 

The Spirit of the dying Son 
Is there, and fills the holy place 

1 lirayuvl^ea&ai: " be very anxious for it: " " feel for it as 
for a friend in jeopardy." 

2 Then saith He to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And 
from that hour that disciple took her imto his own home. — 
St. John xix. 27. 



ST. SIMON AND ST.JUDE. 303 

With records sweet of duties done, 
Of pardon'd foes, and cherish'd grace. 

And as of old by two and two ^ 
His herald saints the Saviour sent 

To soften hearts like morning dew, 
Where He to shine in mercy meant ; 

So evermore He deems His Name 
Best honor'd and His way prepar'd, 

When watching by His altar-flame 
He sees His servants duly pair'd. 

He loves when age and youth are met, 
Fervent old age and youth serene, 

Their high and low in concord set 
For sacred song, Joy's golden mean. 

He loves when some clear soaring mind 

Is drawn by mutual piety 
To simple souls and unrefin'd, 

Who in life's shadiest covert lie. 

Or if perchance a sadden'd heart 

That once was gay and felt the spring, 

Cons slowly o'er its alter'd part, 
In sorrow and remorse to sing. 

Thy gracious care will send that way 
Some spirit full of glee, yet taught 
1 St Mark vi. 7; St. Luke x. 1. 



804 ST. SIMON AND ST, JUDE. 

To bear the sight of dull decay, 

And nurse it with all-pitying thought ; 

Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild 
As evening blackbird's full-ton'd lay. 

When the relenting sun has smil'd 

Bright through a whole December day. 

These are the tones to brace and cheer 
The lonely watcher of the fold. 

When nights are dark, and foemen near. 
When visions fade and hearts grow cold. 

How timely then a comrade's song 
Comes floating on the mountain air, 

And bids thee yet be bold and strong — 
Fancy may die, but Faith is there. 




Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have 
sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. 

Revelations vii. 3. 

HY blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind, 

Now every leaf is brown and sere, 
And idly droops, to thee resign'd, 
The fading chaplet of the year ? 
Yet wears the pure aerial sky 
Her summer veil, half drawn on high, 
Of silvery haze, and dark and still 
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill. 

How quiet shows the woodland scene ! 

Each flower and tree, its duty done, 
E-eposing in decay serene, 

Like weary men when age is won, 
Such calm old age as conscience pure 
And self-commanding hearts ensure, 
Waiting their summons to the sky, 
Content to live, but not afraid to die. 

Sure if our eyes were purg'd to trace 
God's unseen armies hovering round, 
20 



so 6 ALL-SAINTS' DAT. 

We should behold by angels' grace 

The four strong winds of Heaven fast 
bound, ■* 

Their^ downward sweep a moment sta/d 
On ocean cove and forest glade, 
Till the last flower of autumn shed 
Her funeral odors on her dying bed. 

So in Thine awful armory, Lord, 

The lightnings of the judgment-day 
Pause yet awhile, in mercy stor'd, 

Till willing hearts wear quite away 
Their earthly stains ; and spotless shine 
On every brow in light divine 
The Cross by angel hands impress'd. 
The seal of glory won and pledge of promis'd 
rest. 

Little they dream, those haughty souls 

Whom empires own with bended knee. 
What lowly fate their own controls. 

Together link'd by Heaven's decree ; — 
As blood-hounds hush their baying wild 
To wanton with some fearless child. 
So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes. 
Till some repenting heart be ready for the 
skies. 

> 

Think ye the spires that glow so bright 
In front of yonder setting sun, 



ALL-SAINTS' DAY. 307 

Stand by their own unshaken might ? 

No — where th' upholding grace is won, 
We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell. 
But sure from many a hidden dell, 
From many a rural nook unthought of there. 
Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing 
prayer. 

On Champions blest, in Jesus' name. 

Short be your strife, your triumph full, 
Till every heart have caught your flame. 
And, lighten'd of the world's misrule. 
Ye soar those elder saints to meet, 
Gather'd long since at Jesus' feet. 
No world of passions to destroy. 
Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all 
praise and joy. 




I^olp Communion* 

GOD of Mercy, God of Might, 
)| How should pale sinners bear the sight, 
If, as Thy power is surely here. 
Thine open glory should appear ? 

For now Thy people are allow'd 
To scale the mount and pierce the cloud, 
And Faith may feed her eager view 
With wonders Sinai never knew. 

Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice 
The world's Creator bleeding lies, 
That man, His foe, by whom He bled. 
May take Him for his daily bread. 

O agony of wavering thought 
When sinners first so near are brought ! 
" It is my Maker — dare I stay ? 
My Saviour — dare I turn away ? " 

Thus while the storm is high within 
*Twixt love of Christ and fear of sin, 
Who can express the soothing charm, 
To feel Thy kind upholding arm. 



EOLT COMMUNION. 309 

My mother- Church ? and hear thee tell 
Of a world lost, yet lov'd so well, 
That He, by whom the angels live. 
His only Son for her would give ? ^ 

And doubt we yet ? Thou call'st again ; 
A lower still, a sweeter strain ; 
A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine, 
The very breath of Love divine. 

Whispering it says to each apart, 
" Come unto Me, thou trembling heart ; " ^ 
And we must hope, so sweet the tone, 
The precious words are all our own. 

Hear them, kind Saviour — hear Thy spouse 
Low at Thy feet renew her vows ; 
Thine own dear promise she would plead 
For us her true though fallen seed. 

She pleads by all Thy mercies, told 

Thy chosen witnesses of old. 

Love's heralds sent to man forgiven. 

One from the Cross, and one from Heaven.^ 

1 " So God loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten 
Son." See the sentences in the Communion Service, after the 
Confession. 

2 Come mito Me, aU that travail, and are heavj' laden, and 
1 17111 refresh you. 

8 St. Paul and St. John. 



310 HOLT COMMUNION. 

This, of true Penitents the chief, 
To the lost spirit brings relief, 
Lifting on high th' adored Name : — 
" Sinners to save, Christ Jesus came." ^ 

That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends, 
Into the wavering heart descends : — 
" What ? fall'n again ? yet cheerful rise 
Thine Intercessor never dies." 

The eye of Faith, that waxes bright 
Each moment by Thine altar's light, 
Sees them e'en now : they still abide 
In mystery kneeling at our side ; 

And with them every spirit blest. 
From realms of triumph or of rest. 
From Him who saw creation's morn, 
Of all Thine angels eldest born. 



To the poor babe, who died to-day. 
Take part in our thanksgiving lay. 
Watching the tearful joy and calm. 
While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm. 

Sweet awful hour ! the only sound 
One gentle footstep gliding round, 

1 This is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, 
That Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. 

2 If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father 
Jesus Christ the righteous. 



HOLY COMMUNION. 311 

Offering by turns on Jesus' part 
The Cross to every hand and heart. 

Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast ; 
And when Thy veil is drawn at last, 
Let us depart where shadows cease, 
With words of blessing and of peace. 




HEEE is it mothers learn their love ? 
In every Church a fountain springs 
O'er which th' eternal Dove 
Hovers on softest wings. 



What sparkles in that lucid flood 
Is water, by gross mortals ey'd : 
But seen by Faith, 't is blood 
Out of a dear Friend's side. 

A few calm words of faith and prayer, 
A few bright drops of holy dew, 
Shall work a wonder there 
Earth's charmers never knew. 

O happy arms, where cradled lies 
And ready for the Lord's embrace. 
That precious sacrifice. 
The darling of His grace ! 

Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam 
Upon the slumbering featm*es glow, 
When the life-giving stream 
Touches the tender brow ! 



HOL 7 BAP TISM. 313 

Or when the holy cross is sign'd, 
And the young soldier duly sworn 
With true and fearless mind 
To serve the Virgin-born. 

But happiest ye, who seal'd and blest 
Back to your arms your treasure take, 
With Jesus' mark impress'd 
To nurse for Jesus' sake : 

To whom — as if in hallow'd air 

Ye knelt before some awful shrine — 
His innocent gestures wear 
A meaning half divine : 

By whom Love's daily touch is seen 

In strengthening form and freshening hue, 
In the fix'd brow serene, 

The deep yet eager view : — 

Who taught thy pure and even breath 
To come and go with such sweet grace ? 
Whence thy reposing Faith, 
Though in our fraU embrace ? 

O tender gem, and full of Heaven ! 
Not in the twilight stars on high, 
Not in moist flowers at even 
See we our God so nigh. 



814 HOLY BAPTISM. 

Sweet one, make haste and know Him too, 
Thine own adopting Father love, 
That like thine earliest dew, 
Thy dying sweets may prove. 




H ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes 
To childish ears are vain, 
That the young mind at random floats, 
And cannot reach the strain. 

Dim or unheard, the words may fall, 
And yet the heaven-taught mind 

May learn the sacred air, and all 
The harmony unwind. 

Was not our Lord a little child, 

Taught by degrees to pray, 
By father dear and mother mild 

Instructed day by day ? 

And lov'd He not of Heaven to talk 

With children in His sight. 
To meet them in His daily walk, 

And to His arms invite ? 

What though around His throne of fire 

The everlasting chant 
Be wafted from the seraph choir 

In glory jubilant ? 



316 CATECHISM. 

Yet stoops He, ever pleas'd to mark 

Our rude essays of love, 
Faint as the pipe of wakening lark, 

Heard by some twilight grove : 

Yet is He near us, to survey 

These bright and order'd files. 

Like spring-flowers in their best array, 
All silence and all smiles. 

Save that each little voice in turn 
Some glorious truth proclaims, 

What sages would have died to learn, 
Now taught by cottage-dames. 

And if some tones be false or low, 
What are all prayers beneath 

But cries of babes, that cannot know 

Half the deep thought they breathe ? 

In His own words we Christ adore. 

But angels, as we speak. 
Higher above our meaning soar 

Than we o'er children weak : 

And yet His words mean more than they, 
And yet He owns their praise : 

Why should we think He turns away 
From infants' simple lays ? 




€ottBtmatiojt* 

^^^^HE shadow of th' Almighty's cloud 
Calm on the tents of Israel lay, 
While drooping paus'd twelve banners 
proud, 
Till He arise and lead the way. 

Then to the desert breeze unroll'd 

Cheerly the waving pennons fly. 
Lion or eagle — each bright fold 

A loadstar to a warrior's eye. 

So should Thy champions, ere the strife, 
By holy hands o'ershadow'd kneel, 

So, fearless for their charmed life, 
Bear, to the end. Thy Spirit's seal. 

Steady and pure as stars that beam 

In middle heaven, all mist above, 
Seen deepest in the frozen stream : — 

Such is their high courageous love. 

And soft as pure, and warm as bright. 
They brood upon life's peaceful hour, 

As if the Dove that guides their flight 
Shook from her plumes a downy shower. 



318 CONFIRMATION. 

Spirit of might and sweetness too ! 

Now leading on the wars of God, 
Now to green isles of shade and dew 

Turning the waste Thy people frod ; 

Draw, Holy Ghost, Thy sevenfold veil 
Between us and the fires of youth ; 

Breathe, Holy Ghost, Thy freshening gale, 
Our fever'd brow in age to soothe. 

And oft as sin and sorrow tire. 
The hallow'd hour do Thou renew. 

When beckon'd up the awful choir 

By pastoral hands, toward Thee we drew ; 

When trembling at the sacred rail 
We hid our eyes and held our breath, 

Felt Thee how strong, our hearts how frail, 
And long'd to own Thee to the death. 

Forever on our souls be trac'd 

That blessing dear, that dove-like hand, 
A sheltering rock in Memor/s waste, 

O'ershadowing all the weary land. 




[HERE is an awe in mortals' joy, 
A deep mysterious fear 
Half of the heart will still employ, 
As if we drew too near 
To Eden's portal, and those fires 
That bicker round in wavy spires. 
Forbidding, to our frail desires. 
What cost us once so dear. 

We cower before th' heart-searching eye 

In rapture as in pain ; . 
E'en wedded Love, till Thou be nigh, 

Dares not believe her gaip : 
Then in the air she fearless springs, 
The breath of Heaven beneath her wings, 
And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings 

A tun'd and measur'd strain. 

HI fare the lay, though soft as dew 

And free as air it fall. 
That, with Thine altar full in view, 

Thy votaries would enthrall 



320 MATRIMONY. 

To a foul dream, of heathen night, 
Lifting her torch in Love's despite. 
And scaring with base wild-fire light 
The sacred nuptial hall. 

Far other strains, far other fires, 

Our marriage offering grace ; 
Welcome, all chaste and kind desires, 

With even matron pace 
Approaching down the hallow'd aisle ! 
Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile, 
But where your prayers were learn'd erewhile 

In her own native place ? 

Where, but on His benignest brow, 
Who waits to bless you here ? 

Living, He own'd no nuptial vow, 
No bower to Fancy dear : 

Love's very self — for Him no need 

To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed : 

Yet comfort in His eye we read 
For bridal joy and fear. 

'T is He who clasps the marriage band, 

And fits the spousal ring. 
Then leaves ye kneeling, hand in hand, 

Out of His stores to bring 
His Father's dearest blessing, shed 
Of old on Isaac's nuptial bed. 
Now on the board before ye spread 

Of our all-bounteous King. 



MATRTMONT. 321 

All blessings of the breast and womb, 
Of Heaven and earth beneath, 

Of converse high, and sacred home, 
Are yours, in life and death. 

Only kneel on, nor turn away 

From the pure shrine, where Christ to-day 

Will store each flower, ye duteous lay. 
For an eternal wreath. 



SI 




Ot^itatxDit anti Coitimunion of tfje 

YOUTH and Joy, your airy tread 
,^ Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed, 
Your keen eye-glances are too bright. 
Too restless for a sick man's sight. 
Farewell ; for one short life we part : 
I rather woo the soothing art, 
Which only souls in sufferings tried 
Bear to their suffering brethren's side. 

Where may we learn that gentle spell ? 
Mother of Martyrs, thou canst tell ! 
Thou, who didst watch Thy dying Spouse 
With pierced hands and bleeding brows. 
Whose tears from age to age are shed 
O'er sainted sons untimely dead. 
If e'er we charm a soul in pain. 
Thine is the key-note of our strain. 

How sweet with thee to lifl the latch, 
Where Faith has kept her midnight watch. 
Smiling on woe : with thee to kneel, 
Where fix'd, as if one prayer could heal, 



VISITATION AND COMMUNION OF SICK. 323 

She listens, till her pale eye glow 
With joy, wild health can never know, 
And each calm feature, ere we read. 
Speaks, silently, thy glorious Creed. 

Such have I seen ; and while they pour'd 
Their hearts in every contrite word, 
How have I rather long'd to kneel 
And ask of them sweet pardon's seal ! 
How bless'd the heavenly music brought 
By thee to aid my faltering thought ! 
" Peace " ere we kneel, and when we cease 
To pray, the farewell word is, " Peace." 

I came again : the place was bright 
" With something of celestial light " — 
A simple altar by the bed 
For high Conununion meetly spread. 
Chalice, and plate, and snowy vest. — 
We ate and drank : then calmly blest. 
All mourners, one with dying breath, 
We sate and talk'd of Jesus' death. 

Once more I came : the silent room 
Was veil'd in sadly soothing gloom, 
And ready for her last abode 
The pale form like a lily show'd. 
By virgin fingers duly spread, 
And priz'd for love of summer fled. 
The light from those soft-smiling eyes 
Had fleeted to its parent skies. 



324 VISITATION AND COMMUNION OF SICK. 

O soothe us, haunt us, night and day, 
Ye gentle Spirits far away, 
With whom we shar'd the cup of grace, 
Then parted ; ye to Christ's embrace. 
We to the lonesome world again, 
Yet mindful of the unearthly strain 
Parctis'd with you at Eden's door, 
To be sung on, where angels soar, 
With blended voices evermore. 




25uria][ of tlje Wtah* 

And when ike Lord saw her, Be had compassion on her, and 
said unto her, Weep not. And He came and touched the hier ; 
and they that bare him stood still. And He said, Toung man, 
I say unto thee. Arise. — St. Luke vii. 13, 14. 

HO says the wan autumnal sun 
Beams with too faint a smile 
To light up nature's face again, 
And, though the year be on the wane, 

With thoughts of spring the heart beguile ? 

Waft him, thou soft September breeze, 

And gently lay him down 
Within some circling woodland wall, 
Where bright leaves, reddening ere they fall, 

Wave gayly o'er the waters brown. 

And let some graceful arch be there 

With wreathed muUions proud, 
With burnish'd ivy for its screen. 
And moss, that glows as fresh and green 

As though beneath an April cloud. 

Who says the widow's heart must break, 
The childless mother sink ? 



326 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 

A kinder, truer voice I hear, 

Which e'en beside that mournful bier 

Whence parents' eyes would hopeless shrink 

Bids weep no more — heart bereft, 
How strange, to thee, that sound ! 

A widow o'er her only son, 

Feeling more bitterly alone 

For friends that press officious round. 

Yet is the voice of comfort heard, 

For Christ hath touch'd the bier — 
The bearers wait with wondering eye, 
The swelling bosom dares not sigh. 
But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear. 

E'en such an awful soothing calm 

We sometimes see alight 
On Christian mourners, while they wait 
In silence, by some church-yard gate. 

Their summons to the holy rite. 

And such the tones of love, which break 

The stillness of that hour, 
Quelling th' embitter'd spirit's strife — 
" The Resurrection and the Life 

Am I : believe, and die no more." 

Unchang'd that voice — and though not yet 
The dead sit up and speak, 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 827 

Answering its call ; we gladlier rest 
Our darlings on earth's quiet breast, 

And our hearts feel they must not break. 

Far better they should sleep awhile 

Within the Church's shade, 
Nor wake, until new heaven, new earth, 
Meet for their new immortal birth, 

For their abiding-place be made. 

Than wander back to life, and lean 

On our frail love once more. 
'T is sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 

How grows in Paradise our store. 

Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on. 

Through prayer unto the tomb. 
Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf, 
Gathering from every loss and grief 

Hope of new spring and endless home. 

Then cheerly to your work again 

With hearts new-brac'd and set 
To run, untir'd, love's blessed race. 
As meet for those, who face to face 

Over the grave their Lord have met. 




4K)urt{)iiis of l©omni^ 

^S there, in bowers of endless spring, 
One known from all the seraph band 
By softer voice, by smile and wing 
More exquisitely bland ! 
Here let him speed : to-day this hallow'd air 
Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest 
prayer. 

Only let Heaven her fire impart. 

No richer incense breathes on earth : 

" A spouse with all a daughter's heart," 

Fresh from the perilous birth, 

To the great Father lifts her pale glad eye, 

Like a reviving flower when storms are hush'd 

on high. 

O what a treasure of sweet thought 

Is here ! what hope and joy and love 
All in one tender bosom brought, 
For the all-gracious Dove 
To brood o'er silently, and form for Heaven 
Each passionate wish and dream to dear aiFec- 
tion given. 



CHURCHING OF WOMEN. 329 

Her fluttering heart, too keenly blest, 

Would sicken, but she leans on Thee, 
Sees Thee by faith on Mary's breast. 
And breathes serene and free. 
Slight tremblings only of her veil declare ^ 
Soft answers duly whisper'd to each soothing 
prayer. 

We are too weak, when Thou dost bless. 
To bear the joy — help, Virgin-born ! 
By Thine own mother's first caress, 
That wak'd Thy natal morn ! 
Help, by the unexpressive smile, that made 
A Heaven on earth around the couch where Thou 
wast laid ! 

1 " When the woman comes to this office, the rubric (as it 
was altered at the last review) directs that she be decently 
apparelled^ i. e. as the custom and order was formerly, with a 
white covering or veiV — Wheatly on the Common Prayer, c 
xiii. sect- i. 3. 




Commination^ 

HE prayers are o'er : why slumberest 
thou so long, 
Thou voice of sacred song ? 
Why swell'st thou not, like breeze from 
mountain cave. 
High o'er the echoing nave. 
The white-rob'd priest, as otherwhile, to 
guide. 
Up to the Altar's northern side ? 
A mourner's tale of shame and sad decay 
Keeps back our glorious sacrifice to-day : 

The widow'd Spouse of Christ : with ashes 
crown'd. 
Her Christmas robes unbound. 
She lingers in the porch for grief and fear, 

Keeping her penance drear. 
O is it nought to you ? that idly gay. 
Or coldly proud, ye turn away ? 
But if her warning tears in vain be spent, 
Lo, to her alter'd eye the Law's stern fires are 
lent. 

Each awful curse, that on mount Ebal rang, 
Peals with a direr clanof 



COMMINA TION. 331 

Out of that silver trump, whose tones of old 

Forgiveness only told. 
And who can blame the mother's fond af- 
fright,^ 
"Who sporting on some giddy height 
Her infant sees, and springs with hurried hand 
To snatch the rover from the dangerous strand ? 

But surer than all words the silent spell 

(So Grecian legends tell) 
When to her bird, too early scap'd the nest, 

She bares her tender breast. 
Smiling he turns and spreads his little 
wing, 
There to glide home, there safely cling. 
So yearns our mother o'er each truant son, 
So softly falls the lay in fear and wrath begim. 

Wayward and spoil'd she knows ye: the 
keen blast. 
That brac'd her youth, is past : 
The rod of discipline, the robe of shame — 

She bears them in your name : 
Only return and love. But ye perchance 
Are deeper plung'd in sorrow's trance : 
Your God forgives, but ye no comfort take 
Till ye have scourg'd the sins that in your con- 
science ache. 

1 Alluding to a beautiful anecdote in the Greek Anthology, 
torn. i. 180, ed. Jacobs. See Pleasures of Memory, p. l^^tS. 



332 COMMINATION. 

O heavy laden soul ! kneel down and hear 

Thy penance in calm fear : 
With thine own lips to sentence all thy sin ; 

Then, by the judge within 
Absolv'd, in thankful sacrifice to part 
Forever with thy sullen heart, 
Nor on remorseful thoughts to brood, and 
stain 
The glory of the Cross, forgiven and cheer'd in 
vain. 




f orm^ of draper to Be u^c& at M^ta. 

When thoupassest through the waters, I will be with thee. 

Isaiah xliii. 2. 

JHE shower of moonlight falls as still and 
clear 
Upon the desert main, 
As where sweet flowers some pastoral garden 
cheer 
With fragrance after rain : 
The wild winds rustle in the piping shrouds, 

As in the quivering trees : 
Like summer fields, beneath the shadowy clouds 
The yielding waters darken in the breeze. 

Thou too art here with thy soft inland tones, 

Mother of our new birth ; 
The lonely ocean learns thy orisons. 
And loves thy sacred mirth : 
When storms are high, or when the fires of war 

Come lightening round our course, 
Thou breath'st a note like music from afar, 

Tempering rude hearts with calm angelic 
force. 



334 FORMS OF PRATER TO BE USED AT SEA. 

Far, far away, the homesick seaman's hoard, 

Thy fragrant tokens live. 
Like flower-leaves in a precious volume stor'd, 

To solace and relieve 
Some heart too weary of the restless world ; 

Or like thy Sabbath Cross, 
That o'er the brightening billow streams unfurl'd, 
Whatever gale the laboring vessel toss. 

kindly soothing in high Victory's hour, 

Or when a comrade dies. 
In whose sweet presence Sorrow dares not lower, 

Nor Expectation rise 
Too high for earth ; what mother's heart could 
spare 
To the cold cheerless deep 
Her flower and hope ? but thou art with him 
there. 
Pledge of the untir'd arm and eye that 
cannot sleep : 

The eye that watches o'er wild Ocean's dead, 

Each in his coral cave. 
Fondly as if the green turf wrapt his head 

Fast by his father's grave. 
One moment, and the seeds of life shall spring 

Out of the waste abyss. 
And happy warriors triumph with their King 
In worlds without a sea,^ unchanging orbs 

of bliss. 
1 And there was no more sea. — Revelations xxi. 1. 



As thou hast testified of Me in Jerusalem, so must thou bear 
ivitness also at Home. — Acts xxiii. 11. 

l^ftENEATH the burning eastern sky 
"^ The Cross was rais'd at morn : 




The widow'd Church to weep stood by, 
The world, to hate and scorn. 

Now, journeying westward, evermore 

"We know the lonely Spouse 
By the dear mark her Saviour bore 

Trac'd on her patient brows. 

At Rome she wears it, as of old 

Upon th' accursed hill : 
By monarchs clad in gems and gold, 

She goes a mourner still. 

She mourns that tender hearts should bend 

Before a meaner shrine. 
And upon Saint or Angel spend 

The love that should be thine. 

By day and night her sorrows fall 

Where miscreant hands and rude 



336 GUNPOWDER TREASON. 

Have stain'd her pure ethereal pall 
With many a martyr's blood. 

And yearns not her parental heart, 
To hear their secret sighs, 

Upon whose doubting way apart 
Bewildering shadows rise ? 

Who to her side in peace would cling, 
But fear to wake, and find 

What they had deem'd her genial wing 
Was Error's soothing blind. 

She treasures up each throbbing prayer : 
Come, trembler, come and pour 

Into her bosom all thy care, 
For she has balm in store. 

Her gentle teaching sweetly blends 
With the clear light of Truth 

Th' aerial gleam that Fancy lends 
To solemn thoughts in youth. 

If thou hast lov'd, in hours of gloom. 
To dream the dead are near. 

And people all the lonely room 
With guardian spirits dear, 

Dream on the soothing dream at will : 
The lurid mist is o'er. 



GUNPOWDER TREASON. 837 

That show'd the righteous suffering still 
Upon th' eternal shore. 

If with thy heart the strains accord, 

That on His altar-throne 
Highest exalt thy glorious Lord, 

Yet leave Him most thine own ; 

O come to our Communion Feast : 

There present in the heart, 
Not in the hands, th' eternal Priest 

Will His true scilf impart. 

Thus, should thy soul misgiving turn 

Back to th' enchanted air, 
Solace and warning thou mayst learn 

From all that tempts thee there. 

And O ! by all the pangs and fears 

Fraternal spirits know, 
When for an elder's shame the tears 

Of wakeful anguish flow, 

Speak gently of our sister's fall : 

Who knows but gentle love 
May win her at our patient call 

The surer way to prove ? 

22 




TAis is thankworthy^ if a man for conscience toward God endure 
grief suffering wrongfully. — 1 St. Peter ii. 19. 

;RAISE to our pardoning God! though 
silent now 
The thunders of the deep prophetic 
sky, 
Though in our sight no powers of darkness bow 
Before th' Apostles' glorious company ; 

The Martyrs' noble army still is ours, 
Far in the North our fallen days have seen 

How in her woe the tenderest spirit towers 
For Jesus' sake in agony serene. 

Praise to our God ! not cottage hearths alone, 
And shades impervious to the proud world's 
glare, 

Such witness yield : a monarch from his throne 
Springs to his Cross and finds his glory there. 

Yes : wheresoe'er one trace of thee is found. 
As in the Sacred Land, the shadows fall : 

With beating hearts we roam the haunted 
ground, 
Lone battle-field, or crumbling prison-hall. 



KING CHARLES THE MARTYR. 339 

And there are aching soHtary breasts, 

Whose widow'd walk with thought of thee is 
cheer'd, 

Our own, our royal Saint : thy memory rests 
On many a prayer, the more for thee endear'd. 

True son of our dear Mother, early taught 
With her to worship and for her to die, 

Nurs'd in her aisles to more than kingly thought, 
Oft in her solemn hours we dream thee nigh. 

For thou didst love to trace her daily lore, 
And where we look for comfort or for calm. 

Over the self-same lines to bend, and pour 
Thy heart with hers in some victorious psalm. 

And well did she thy loyal love repay ; 

When all forsook, her Angels still were nigh, 
Chain'd and bereft, and on thy funeral way. 

Straight to the Cross she turn'd thy dying eye.^ 

1 "His Majesty then bade him (Mr. Herbert) withdraw; 
for he was about an hour in private with the Bishop (Juxon): 
and being called in, the Bishop went to prayer ; and reading 
also the 27th chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, which re- 
lateth the Passion of our Blessed Saviour. The King, after 
the Service was done, asked the Bishop, if he had made choice 
of that chapter, being so applicable to his present condition ? 
The Bishop replied, ' May it please your Gracious Majesty, it 
is the proper lesson for the day, as appears by the Kalendar ; ' 
which the King was much affected with, so aptly serving as a 
seasonable preparation for his death that day." — Herbert's 
Memoirs, p. 131. 



840 KING CHARLES THE MARTYR. 

And yearly now, before the Martyrs' King, 
For thee she offers her maternal tears, 

Calls us, like thee, to His dear feet to cling, 
And bury in His wounds our earthly fears. 

The Angels hear, and there is mirth in Heaven, 
Fit prelude of the joy, when spirits won 

Like thee to patient Faith, shall rise forgiven. 
And at their Saviour's knees thy bright exam- 
ple own. 




€i)e iSeia^tomtion of tfje iSopal f amilp. 

And Barzillai said unto the King^ How long have I to live, that 
I should go up with the King unto Jerusalem f — 2 Samuel 
xix. 34. 

S when the Paschal week is o'er, 
Sleeps in the silent aisles no more 
The breath of sacred song, 
But by the rising Saviour's light 
Awaken'd soars in airy flight, 
L Or deepening rolls along ; ^ 

The while round altar, niche, and shrinej 
The funeral evergreens entwine. 

And a dark brilliance cast. 
The brighter for their hues of gloom, 
Tokens of Him, who through the tomb 

Into high glory pass'd : 

Such were the lights and such the strains, 
When proudly stream'd o'er Ocean plains 

Our own returning Cross ; 
For with that triumph seem'd to float 
Far on the breeze one dirge-like note 

Of orphanhood and loss. 

1 The organ is silent in many Churclies during Passion- 
yreek: and in some it is the custom to put up evergreen 
boughs at Easter as well as at Christmas-time. 



342 RESTORATION OF TEE ROIAL FAMILY, 

Father and King, where art thou ? 
A greener wreath adorns thy brow, 

And clearer rays surround ; 
O for one hour of prayer like thine, 
To plead before th' all-ruling shrine 

For Britain lost and found ! 

And he,^ whose mild persuasive voice 
Taught us in trials to rejoice, 

Most like a faithful dove, 
That by some ruin'd homestead builds, 
And pours to the forsaken fields 

His wonted lay of love : 

Why comes he not to bear his part, 
To lift and guide th' exulting heart ? 

A hand that cannot spare 
Lies heavy on his gentle breast : 
We wish him health ; he sighs for rest. 

And Heaven accepts the prayer. 

Yes, go in peace, dear placid spright, 
111 spar'd ; but would we store aright 

Thy serious sweet farewell. 
We need not grudge thee to the skies. 
Sure after thee in time to rise, 

With thee forever dwell. 

Till then, whene'er with duteous hand, 
Year after year, my native Land 

1 Read Fell's Life of Hammond, p. 283-296. Oxford, 1806. 



RESTORATION OF TEE ROYAL FAMILY. 343 

Her royal offering brings, 
Upon the Altar lays the Crown, 
And spreads her robes of old renown 

Before the King of kings, 

Be some kind spirit, likest thine. 
Ever at hand, with airs divine 

The wandering heart to seize ; 
Whispering, " How long hast thou to live, 
That thou shouldst Hope or Fancy give 

To flowers or crowns like these ? '* 




1 was vnih Moses, so I will be with thee : T will not fail thee^ 
norforsahe thee. — Joshua i. 5. 

'HE voice that from the glory came 
To tell how Moses died unseen, 
And waken Joshua's spear of flame 
To victory on the mountains green, 
Its trumpet tones are sounding still, 

When Kings or Parents pass away. 
They greet us with a cheering thrill 
Of power and comfort in decay. 

Behind the soft bright summer cloud 

That makes such haste to melt and die, 
Our wistful gaze is oft allow'd 

A glimpse of the unchanging sky : 
Let storm and darkness do their worst ; 

For the lost dream the heart may ache. 
The heart may ache, but may not burst : 

Heaven will not leave thee nor forsake. 

One rock amid the weltering floods. 
One torch in a tempestuous night, 

One changeless pine in fading woods : — 
Such is the thought of Love and Might, 



TEE ACCESSION. 345 

True Might and ever-present Love, 
When Death is busy near the throne, 

And Sorrow her keen sting would prove 
On Monarchs orphan'd and alone. 

In that lorn hour and desolate. 

Who could endure a crown ? but He, 
Who singly bore the world's sad weight. 

Is near, to whisper, " Lean on Me : 
Thy days of toil, thy nights of care. 

Sad lonely dreams in crowded hall. 
Darkness within, while pageants glare 

Around — the Cross supports them all." 

O Promise of undying Love ! 

While monarchs seek thee for repose, 
Far in the nameless mountain cove 

Each pastoral heart thy bounty knows. 
Ye, who in place of shepherds true 

Come trembling to their awful trust, 
Lo here the fountain to imbue 

With strength and hope your feeble dust. 

Not upon Kings or Priests alone 

The power of that dear word is spent ; 
It chants to all in softest tone 

The lowly lesson of Content : 
Heaven's light is pour'd on high and low ; 

To high and low Heaven's Angel spake ; 
" Resign thee to thy weal or woe, 

I ne'er will leave thee nor forsake." 




After this, the congregation shall be desired, secretly in their 
prayers, to make their humble supplications to God for all 
these things : for the which prayers there shall be silence Jcept 
for a space. 

After which shall be sung or said by the Bishop (the persons to 
be ordained Priests all kneeling), " Veni, Creator Spiritus." 

— EUBKIC IN THE OFFICE FOE OeDEKLNG OF PeIESTS. 

"WAS silence in Thy temple, Lord, 
When slowly through the hallow'd 
air 
The spreading cloud of incense soar'd, 

Charg'd with the breath of Israel's prayer. 

'T was silence round Thy throne on high. 
When the last wondrous seal imclos'd,^ 

And in the portals of the sky 

Thine armies awfully repos'd. 

And this deep pause, that o'er us now 

Is hovering — comes it not of Thee ? 

Is it not like a Mother's vow, 

When with her darling on her knee, 

1 When He had opened the seventh seal, there was silence 
in Heaven about the space of half an hour. — Rev. viii. 1. 



ORDINATION. 347 

She weighs and numbers o'er and o'er 

Love's treasure hid in her fond breast, 

To cull from that exhaustless store 

The dearest blessing and the best ? 

And where shall Mother's bosom find, 
With all its deep love-learned skill, 

A prayer so sweetly to her mind. 
As, in this sacred hour and still. 

Is wafted from the white-rob'd choir. 
Ere yet the pure high-breathed lay, 

" Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire," 
Rise floating on its dove-like way. 

And when it comes, so deep and clear 
The strain, so soft the melting fall. 

It seems not to th' entranced ear 

Less than Thine own heart-cheering call, 

Spirit of Christ — Thine earnest given 

That these our prayers are heard, and they. 

Who grasp, this hour, the sword of Heaven, 
Shall feel Thee on their weary way. 

Oft as at morn or soothing eve 

Over the Holy Fount they lean, 

Their fading garland freshly weave, 

Or fan them with Thine airs serene. 



348 ORDINATION. 

Spirit of Light and Truth ! to Thee 

We trust them in that musing hour, 

Till they, with open heart and free, 

Teach all Thy word in all its power. 

When foemen watch their tents by night, 
And mists hang wide o'er moor and fell, 

Spirit of Counsel and of Might, 

Their pastoral warfare guide Thou well. 

And oh ! when worn and tir'd they sigh 
With that more fearful war within. 

When Passion's storms are loud and high, 
And brooding o'er remember'd sin 

The heart dies down — O mightiest then, 
Come ever true, come ever near. 

And wake their slumbering love again, 
Spirit of God's most holy Fear ! 



INDEX. 



P.ige 

And is there in God's world so drear a place 82 

And wilt Thou hear the fever'd heart 38 

Angel of wrath ! why linger in mid air 79 

As rays around the source of light 24 

As when the Paschal week is o'er 341 

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid 114 

Awake — again the Gospel-trump is blown 7 

Beneath the burning eastern sky 335 

Bless'd are the pure in heart 258 

Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide 162 

Dear is the morning gale of spring 269 

Father to me Thou art and Mother dear 98 

Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour 101 

First Father of the holy seed 127 

Foe of mankind ! too bold thy race 69 

Go not away, thou weary soul 185 

Go up and watch the new-bom rill 121 

Hold up thy mirror to the sun 286 

Hues of the rich unfolding mom 1 



350 INDEX. 

Pago 

I mark'd a rainbow in the north 51 

In troublous days of anguish and rebuke 191 

Is it not strange, the darkest hour Ill 

Is there, in bowers of endless spring 328 

Is this a time to plant and build 196 

It is so — ope thine eyes, and see 218 

It was not then a poet's dream 174 

Lessons sweet of spring returning 44 

Lord, and what shall this man do 27 

Lord, in Thy field I work all day 158 

My Saviour, can it ever be 136 

Not till the freezing blast is still 11 

Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven 140 

O for for a sculptor's hand 130 

God of mercy, God of might 308 

O hateful spell of Sin ! when friends are nigh 171 

holy mountain of my God 108 

Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will. 104 

Youth and Joy, your airy tread , 322 

Of the bright things in earth and air 17 

Oh ! day of days ! shall hearts set free 118 

Oh ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes 315 

Oh ! Thou who deign'st to sympathize 264 

Oh ! who shall dare in this frail scene 267 

On Sinai's top, in prayer and trance 202 

Praise to our pardoning God I though silent now 338 

Prophet of God, arise and take 188 

Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun 234 



INDEX. 351 



Say, ye celestial guards, who wait 29 

See Lucifer like lightning fall .... 86 

Seest thou, how tearful and alone 302 

Since all that is not Heaven must fade 154 

Sit down and take thy fill of joy 283 

Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May 144 

Star of the East, how sweet art Thou 41 

Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers 214 

Sweet Dove ! the softest, steadiest plume 73 

Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies 209 

Ten cleans'd, and only one remain 207 

'T is gone, that bright and orbed blaze 4 

'T is true, of old th' unchanging sun 32 

The bright-hair'd mom is glowing 241 

The clouds that wrap the setting sun 167 

The Earth that in her genial breast 147 

The heart of childhood is all mirth 47 

Th' historic Muse, from age to age ^ 92 

The livelong night we 've toil'd in vain 179 

The mid-day sun, with fiercest glare 254 

The morning mist is clear'd away 228 

The prayers are o'er: why slumberest thou so long 330 

The shadow of th' Almighty's cloud , . . 317 

The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear. 333 

The Son of God in doing good 199 

The voice that from the glory came 344 

The world 's a room of sickness, where each heart 272 

The year begins with Thee 35 

There are, who darkling and alone 62 

There is an awe in mortals' joy 319 

There is a book, who runs may read 66 

They know th' Almighty's power 55 

Thou first-bom of the year's delight ... 124 



352 INDEX. 



Thou thrice denied, yet thrice belov'd 279 

'T was silence in Thy temple, Lord 346 

Twice in her season of decay 276 

Two clouds before the summer gale 298 

Wake, arm divine ! awake 58 

We were not by when Jesus came 250 

Well may I guess and feel. 133 

What liberty so glad and gay 231 

What sudden blaze of song 20 

What went ye out to see 14 

When bitter thoughts, of conscience born 182 

When brothers part for manhood's race 248 

When God of old came down from Heaven 151 

When Nature tries her finest touch 89 

When Persecution's torrent blaze 222 

Where is it mothers learn their love 312 

Where is the land with milk and honey flowing 165 

Where is Thy favor' d haunt, eternal Voice 225 

Who is God's chosen priest 261 

Who says the wan autumnal sim 325 

Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind 305 

Why doth my Saviour weep 194 

Why should we faint and fear to live alone 237 

Will God indeed with fragments bear 244 

Wish not, dear friends, my pain away 212 

Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids, 29G 

Ye stars that round the Sun of Righteousness 294 

Ye whose hearts are beating high. 96 

Yes — deep within and deeper yet 76 



